What would it take
by neska-polita
Summary: Mr. Darcy once voiced his reservations against Miss Elizabeth's station in life, only to have his suit vehemently rejected. Years later his feelings for her haven't diminished but her status has. What would it take for Mr. Darcy to propose again? Regency, AU, HEA (amazingly). Inspired by "The Reawakening" by easternbandit.
1. Chapter 1

_Update: Someone asked if this story is in print and for sale, and the answer is negative. This story is only in electronic version and to be read for free only here at FFN. Please allow it to inspire you to create your own stories, and if you do, be nice and shoot me a message so I can read how my creation grew on you.  
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_If technicalities are to be observed, it should be under Creative Commons license of the following type: "Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported"  
_

_A/N: Story first published during October / November 2012. Edited, corrected and republished in December 2012 with the input from readers._

_Premise of the story: Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth part ways after he hands her his letter in Rosings, and don't meet again until many years later. The Wickham and Lydia affair has carried out without his interference (or knowledge) and the consequences have been quite dire for the extended Bennet family._

_This story explores what would it take for Mr. Darcy to consider marrying Elizabeth again, given that he had expressed his misgivings in her previous social standing. It was inspired by another story here, 'The Reawakening' by easternbandit (story ID: 8161786), (thanks to reader A-Song-For-You for the reminder). While 'The Reawakening' is quite realistic, this story attempts to be more loyal to the characters as they were depicted in the novel._

_Everyone who stopped by and left a comment has my gratefulness, but some readers' input was particularly important: they were fia-blue, LotsOfLaundry, darcysfriend, Bonbonnett, jytte, TheChocoholicofAusten, Nuingarién, justlovefanfiction2901, GreenRibbon, Ally J., barnabus67, coldie-voldie, fishistix, Lady Forrest, makaem, janashe and allboyshouldhavelonghair._

_I hope you like it. It's finished, but don't be shy to leave a comment or PM letting me know of your thoughts!_

_Thank you for reading me, neska-polita_

* * *

The dawn of a new day had brought light to his room but not to his soul. The previous night he had undressed and put on his sleep clothes, but his bed was untouched. He had passed the many hours thinking, and writing, and nervously walking around his room, occasionally staring in disgust at his reflection on the looking glass, all of this, actually, in an attempt to remove himself from the state of complete shock the previous evening's events had pushed him into.

Miss Elizabeth Bennet, a delightful and intelligent lady well beneath his station, someone who could only benefit from marrying him, had not only rejected him but had also wounded him so deeply that he thought he should hate her. Instead (he couldn't help himself), he admired her even more for her straightforwardness. She had reservations against his character and the prospect of his money and status hadn't changed them; if anything, he respected someone so true to herself.

Hours later and in the privacy of his bedchamber in Rosings, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, Derbyshire, winced time and again at the memory of her description of him. Was he so arrogant, conceited and disdainful of the feelings of others? True, he was of a taciturn nature much unlike his friend Bingley and his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam, but he didn't take any pleasure in inflicting pain to anyone, whether in his situation of life or any other. Until then he had actually thought he was quite generous and attentive, how come she believed the opposite?

Had Wickham, once again, managed to make him miserable by meddling with the women that meant the most to him? How did he do it? Was this Wickham's doing, or only his own?

For a second he thought he never really knew her at all, that all the little signs he had taken as encouragement were anything but. But the mistake was relatively small, as she didn't expect his attentions. Everything else was true. She was unique and he was more in love with her than he thought his heart was capable of.

The sun was up and the letter, the only means his battered pride and wounded heart had found to attempt, if not to win her love, at least earn her respect by defending himself against her wrong accusations, was signed and sealed. His valet brought his breakfast and helped him dress, not saying a word about the untouched bed, and he set off and out to reach her one last time. The letter in his hand contained the words he wished he could deliver in person, but he was sure, it couldn't be.

After a while he found her, as he knew she would, walking down the well trodden path near Rosings' gate. She saw him, he could tell, and she turned hoping to avoid him. Ashamed of producing such reaction but forcing himself to do what we had come to do, he called her and quickly stepped over and handed her the letter, his letter, with a perfunctory salutation. She took it in her hands and nodded, without a word, and then he turned and left.

* * *

Days became weeks and months went by, and soon summer was hot and shimmering all over England. And other summers followed that one, the summer after the last time he saw or heard of Elizabeth Bennet. If there was a moment when he thought more of her, it was around Easter week, inevitably it always seemed to him, and only then it was when he allowed himself to wonder where she was, whether she was happy and, very selfishly, if she had read his letter and believed him. He wanted to know if he had been forgiven.

He was fairly certain she had had to be married by now; he could hardly believe he had been the only one to notice her, and she couldn't have had reservations to all her suitors. He tried to smile at this thought but seldom succeeded. He had no way to know for certain, however; Bingley never went back to Hertfordshire, and Mr. Collins didn't ever mention her. The wife, Mrs. Collins, whom he vaguely remembered to be friends with Elizabeth, never spoke in his presence. His hopes of seeing her again in Kent were steadily crushed until one day, years after that fateful evening and sleepless night, he hoped no longer.

His life was far from idle, though; there were plenty other business commanding his attention. Although he was no businessman he owned and managed land, which took a great deal of his time and he gave it, freely and willingly just to be occupied. His sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy had come out splendidly a few years ago and had been engaged, and then married, to young Lord Cavendish, and had recently produced a heir to Pemberley, young Darcy Cavendish.

As for himself, it was a matter he knew was still pondered and discussed in some circles, he had decided not to marry. Miss Anne de Bourgh was very ill and evidently unfit to be anyone's wife, even in her mother's view. Miss Caroline Bingley had given up her marital hopes on him and had married a diplomat, currently the British ambassador in Greece, and her brother Charles, widowed less than a year after getting married, losing wife and child the same night, had accepted their invitation to live with them.

In truth, one could say Mr. Darcy of Pemberley was a little lonely. But then, he had been so most of his life.


	2. Chapter 2

While Mr. Darcy preferred being at Pemberley to almost any other place, he had kept the fashionable family townhouse and used it regularly. It was near Hyde Park and fresh air was noticeable, and though it must be noted that it didn't feel quite safe to go out for a walk at the crack of day as it was often his custom, the Park was well known by the gentleman.

Coming to London wasn't the most attractive of plans this time of the year, in early April, but Georgiana and her husband resided there and this visit had been planned for long, and he had no intentions to let his sister down. He had arrived the previous afternoon and had a few spare hours until dinner, so he decided to go out for a walk.

The air was clear and crisp, the last of winter's chill still clinging to the naked branches but losing its fight to a park that seemed to grow greener by the minute. Mr. Darcy was well acquainted with the botanical expressions of spring and enjoyed them, privately, with a thorough knowledge of species and variations. Discreetly avoiding herds of noisy children and their nursemaids and governesses, and stylish lovers seeking privacy, he wandered through the paths appreciating the specimens and went through the upcoming social events in his mind.

He would go to a few balls with the Cavendishes and, as it was his custom since Miss Elizabeth had interpreted his reticence of dancing as ungentlemanly, he would dance three times with three different ladies. His first dance was invariably with the wife or daughter of the host, the owner of the third one was his sister, and the middle one was to be determined. Mr. Darcy always tried to dance with married women or with ladies he perceived to be left out by others. He had noticed and his sister had confirmed it, that once he danced with a lady she would receive more interest from other gentlemen afterwards, so he had made it a point that all ladies in attendance danced at least once. He wanted to believe he was helping other Mr. Darcys to find their Elizabeths sooner, but he would never voice it, of course. It was too silly and it would take him to admit he was still concerned, that his heart was still concerned, with her.

And obviously, it was no use.

Surprisingly, for him at least, none of the ladies seemed to interpret his requests for dancing as a budding romantic interest. He honestly had no idea why, but was glad for it.

Mr. Darcy was deep in such thoughts when a ball entered his field of vision from the left, and a little boy of about six ran after it, crossing the path he was walking about twenty yards away. He slowed almost to a stop to watch this healthy little boy, brimming with energy and life, running after his ball. A girl of the same age or perhaps younger followed him in a whirlwind of white ruffles, ribbons and blond curls, and a woman, more likely the caretaker than the mother judging by their clothes, followed both, with a light and easy step that gave him the impression she wasn't in the least bothered by the exercise. Then the boy turned and said something and the woman laughed, and Mr. Darcy felt his heart stop for a moment.

He could swear he had heard Elizabeth Bennet's voice.

His eyes were fixed on her but he couldn't see her face and she was leaving the park, they were leaving with a manservant, likely a footman, now helping them climb into a coach. There wasn't any distinctive mark on the car or horses, or the dresses of the servants, and they left quickly and he realized he was still standing in his spot, about twenty yards from where the children and their caretaker had crossed, right by these trees whose leaves tend to develop a fungus with the shape of warts after particularly rainy seasons. He had no idea of whether it was her, or how he could find her again, or if it was the time of the year playing games with his mind.

He turned on his heel and walked home, feeling feverish and as if his feet were stepping on clouds of cotton.


	3. Chapter 3

To the casual witness, and that would include virtually every one in his acquaintance, Mr. Darcy's visit to town had nothing out of the ordinary or worthy of notable mention. He called Georgiana often, he attended balls, dinners and other social functions, he conducted every piece of business as usual and retreated to Derbyshire the first week of June.

To himself, though, the visit was an experience of nervousness and exhilaration, exasperation and hope, and ultimately, despair. He did not see her again.

It was not because of his disinterest, though. Whenever he was in the company of a young or middle aged married person he couldn't help wondering if their children's nursemaid or governess was Miss Bennet; at the dinners hosted by young couples his eyes kept going to the ceiling, as if they could reach the children of the house being read a night story by her. But he would not find the words to ask his hosts, and servants, nursemaids and governesses included, were seldom in sight when he called. He had not thought of this until now, and wondered what Elizabeth would say to it. "It was custom and not arrogance", he defended himself. "You should be above both", she would reply in his imagination.

He went to Hyde Park often, at different hours, to the path where he had spotted her and others too. Truth be told he made it his mission to walk around as much as he could every time he went. He saw many children and young nurses, but none were the child with the ball, the girl with ruffles or their light stepped grown companion.

Only Georgiana noticed his uneasiness and enquired about it, but he didn't reply and understanding his need for privacy, she didn't insist.

In the carriage ride to Pemberley he wondered, not for the first time and probably not for the last one, if he had seen her at all.


	4. Chapter 4

- "... of his great mercy to take unto himself the soul of our dear sister here departed, we therefore commit her body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust..."

Mr. Collins, in what Mr. Darcy found as an unexpected display of tact, recited almost tonelessly the burial service for his cousin, Miss Anne de Bourgh. Mr. Darcy sighed imperceptibly and wondered if the smell of rain permeating the noon's air meant he would have to change soaked clothes later. Most likely, he decided. His mind went back to his cousin, who used to be only four years younger than himself, but now he would grow older while she would be forever thirty. He suddenly felt grateful for being alive.

Anne had always had a sickly constitution and in spite of enjoying every care money could provide, her health had declined sharply in the last eighteen months or so and the past winter, cold and rainy, had been too much of a toil for her frail body. Not even Lady Catherine, with her domineering manners, could say she was surprised by this early fate of her only daughter and didn't blame him anymore, so openly at least, for not marrying her.

Against the norm Lady Catherine was in attendance at the funeral. Her reasoning, and he couldn't say he disagreed, was that she didn't care now for any illness she might catch. He looked at his aunt, a tower of black lace and ribbons crowned by a steady snowy frown, and felt pity; for all the great plans crumbling down against her iron will, for the only daughter surviving childhood never actually making it into adulthood. Anne's health had prevented even her coming out in society. The fate of the great estate of Rosings wasn't written in stone anymore but, in all honesty, he didn't care.

* * *

He didn't like Rosings, yet the first week of April in its parks were beautiful. He walked through the woods in the early morning before breakfast, avoiding the path near the gate as it was his custom, and on his way back met Mr. Collins, who, in far more words than necessary, informed him that he and his wife would have dinner at Rosings that evening. Mr. Darcy had always thought quite poorly of the clergyman but applied himself to reply, not in as many words though, that he would enjoy seeing them later.

* * *

In the course of the evening Mr. Darcy became positive that Mr. Collins, ridiculous as he often appeared, was sincere in his admiration for Lady Catherine and that his company would prevent his aunt from feeling too sorely her daughter's absence. It was difficult to say how Lady Catherine would mourn her daughter, and it was certainly not a matter to be discussed with the men of the family, but he was struck by the notion of Mr. Collins having a positive effect outside common flattery.

-"We would be delighted to see you in Hertfordshire, Mr. Darcy", began Mr. Collins after a prayer was said and in view that Lady Catherine was unusually, but understandably, quiet.

-"Excuse me?" he tried not to sound either bitter or suprised.

-"I have inherited a small property, not a great thing really and in not a great shape either, near Netherfield, which, if I'm not mistaken, belongs to your friend, Mr. Bingley" continued Mr. Collins in his customary obsequious tone.

Mr. Darcy took a moment to digest this amount of information and proceeded to clarify.

-"It was not Mr. Bingley's property, I'm afraid, it was a lease and he did not renew it." He hoped he hadn't sound too blunt. "I'm afraid I have no prospects of visiting that shire any time soon", he finished and hoped Mr. Collins wouldn't understand this as a request for an invitation.

-"Oh, I see", Mr. Collins really sounded apologetic. "Matter of fact I am planning to lease my property as well," and he looked at his patroness, "my duties here are of foremost importance to me".

Mr. Collins was silent for a moment but charged on soon.

-"I inherited this Longbourn estate," Mr. Darcy felt as if Mr. Collins had physically stung him with that name, "a farm actually, from a distant cousin who only had daughters." Mr. Darcy's attention was so commanded by the turn of the subject that he left his spoon on the table to better hear it, "and after his recent death, and because of an entailment to a male heir, it became to my power. That family brought its own tragedy upon itself, the lack of foreseeing and common sense of its members apparent more than once."

-"I believe I saw Miss Elizabeth Bennet in town."

A heavy silence, cold and thick as the blanket of an overnight snow, fell over the table. Mr. Darcy was surprised the words had found its way from his mind, where they had been tightly locked for about a year, and in the same state of strangeness observed the reactions of his fellow diners. Mrs. Collins' eyes widened and bored right into his for a moment, and then lowered to her soup. Mr. Collins scoffed lightly and Lady Catherine's face contorted in theatrical disgust.

-"Mr. Darcy, as a token of respect to Her Ladyship, I do not think that is a suitable subject for tonight's table", Mr. Collins replied clippedly. "We do not have anything to do with them and it's with regret that I remember one of them sat at this table."

Mr. Darcy's eyes found Mrs. Collins' face and noticed she tightened her lips and looked to her side, in the most open display of discomfort he'd ever seen in her.

-"Aunt, Mr. Collins, madam, I apologise" he said curtly. "I believe this year there's more game in the park, am I right?" he changed the subject quickly and it worked.

But during the reminder of the evening he found Mrs. Collins' eyes on him, and while he didn't hear her voice once, he knew she would provide him with the answers he wanted.


	5. Chapter 5

More than once since they had parted ways so bitterly, one day like this one in this very place, had Mr. Darcy thought that he would certainly go great lengths to ensure Elizabeth's happiness. He had certainly no way to know the details of her life, but the facts lay the previous evening by Mr. Collins had aroused the hope in him that he could do something for her.

The purpose of his intention wasn't a deluded romantic notion of achieving her gratefulness as a means to a further end, but the truth he had once tried to explain so poorly: he loved her so deeply that nothing else really mattered. He had honestly thought she would be flattered by the enumerating of what he was leaving behind for her, but instead she had felt insulted. Hearing her words, which he still remembered so well, he could see why. When he attempted to blame her rejection on his less than romantic observations she had replied that the manner of his address didn't matter, and other reasons had already decided the fate of his proposal. He still believed, however, that he should have recommended his suit better by choosing his words more sensibly.

His morning walk took him to the Hunsford parsonage, where he hadn't set foot since shortly after delivering Elizabeth his letter. When he approached the building he noticed Mrs. Collins feeding chickens, and at the sound of his greeting she looked up and invited him inside for tea. He accepted, and five minutes later he was sitting in the small, but very clean and light, drawing room.

Mrs. Collins sat on the chair farthest from him and busied herself with the tea things. Aware that their respective ranks ruled who spoke first, he complimented the room with a common expression.

-"You're here to ask about Elizabeth, right Mr. Darcy?" said Mrs. Collins and turned her face even farther from him to allow him privacy if he blushed. He felt thankful. "Last time we had you for tea was when she was here, if I'm not mistaken," she added thoughtfully.

-"You surmise correctly, madam," he didn't see the use in contradicting her. "I hope my absence so far is not taken as an offence to you."

Mrs. Collins sat back and glanced at him while she handed him his cup.

-"It isn't," she replied shortly but not rudely. "I am surprised you saw Elizabeth in London. Last I heard from her she was working with a family in Canterbury, but my husband has forbidden me from continuing our intercourse", Mrs. Collins laced her fingers and looked up. "I paid him no heed until recently, so this is why my news might be outdated."

She swallowed and Mr. Darcy thought Mrs. Collins looked sad.

-"I understand Mr. Bennet passed away recently, but I'm disconcerted by Mr. Collins' reproof. Would you...?"

Mrs. Collins nodded, finishing the question for him.

-"Mr. Bennet died in November and his estate passed on to the nearest male relation, who happens to be my husband. Mr. Collins was referring, I believe, to two facts that are or have been of common knowledge, although they are still painful to mention and I will require your discretion on the matter".

It was Mr. Darcy's turn to nod.

-"The Bennet family's downfall took place about five years ago, when the youngest daughter eloped with a member of the militia, Mr. George Wickham. A scandal ensued when it became clear that he had no intention to marry her, and after impregnating her, he vanished."

Mr. Darcy couldn't help his fists clenching, so he left his cup and saucer on the table with all the little calm he could summon. Wickham, always Wickham!

-"I know you're acquainted with Mr. Wickham" continued Mrs. Collins with the same cool tone and barely looking at him in the eye, "and that your relationship is not in good terms. He gave his version of the facts to whomever wanted to listen to him after Mr. Bingley left Netherfield, and there were few who didn't believe him. Jane Bennet tried to defend you, I remember, but she was much busy being in love with Mr. Bingley and trying to hide it, to attempt to convince people otherwise."

Mr. Darcy had long accepted that he had misjudged Jane Bennet but this piece of information made him feel oddly inferior.

-"So, after Miss Lydia and Mr. Wickham's elopement became public knowledge, it was just a matter of time until the mortification and bad reputation spread over the other sisters, even if their behaviour has been always irreproachable."

Mrs. Collins looked down and pulled an embroidered handkerchief from her pocket.

-"I beg you forgive me, Mr. Darcy", she said trying unsuccessfully to stifle a sob, that broke her voice and made her eyes glisten with moist that ran down her cheeks at once. "This is all very painful. The harm Mr. Wickham inflicted on my dearest friends, so unfair and undeserved, still affects me."

Mr. Darcy was silent because he was quite affected too. He gave his companion time to compose herself fixing his eyes on his cup first, and on the sparrows sitting on the windowsill then. After a few minutes Mrs. Collins continued her story.

-"Mr. Bennet fell ill, and the little the family had saved was spent in doctors and medicine. Jane and Elizabeth went away to work as governesses and sent home most of their earnings, while Mary and Kitty stayed home to help with the farm. I don't know of Lydia's whereabouts. When Mr. Bennet died, they lost it all."

Mrs. Collins let out a chopped sigh.

-"The other fact Mr. Collins alluded to, Mr. Darcy, with his mention to lack of foreseeing, was that they could have stayed in Longbourn even after this debacle. I first met Mr. Collins when he went to Longbourn to look for a wife, and he had set his eyes on Elizabeth. When he proposed and Elizabeth, well, obviously, she rejected him."

Mrs. Collins didn't meet Mr. Darcy's eyes anymore. He was glad, as he could hardy arrange his features to disguise his surprise.

-"I know which were my friend's reservations against Mr. Collins, I'm not blind to any of them. My prospectives were, then, far worse than my friend's. Plain, older and still unmarried I already was a burden to my family, and I knew Mr. Collins' proposal was going to be my only one. I often wonder what Lizzy would have done had she known it was going to be her only one too."

This last sentence made Mr. Darcy cough from shock.

-"Madam, I am thankful for this interview. I believe I have taken much of your time and you must have business to attend." He stood up and she followed suit. "I... I didn't know any of this," he added mostly to himself. He wanted to thank the woman for doing something in all probability against her husband's wishes but couldn't think of anything. "Have a good day."

-"Thank you for stopping by, Mr. Darcy. Have a good day you too".

Every day in Rosings was the same, and the rest of this one wasn't an exception. He didn't talk much to anyone and all his anger, frustration and yearning painted themselves in a letter addressed to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, which burned completely in the stove before the night was over.


	6. Chapter 6

Mr. Darcy would think often of Mrs. Collins' words, reliving the sinking feeling in his gut that it was too late, that he had missed the opportunity to right all wrongs. It would drive him positively ill. Elizabeth was now disgraced and too far beneath himself, and so was Jane, beautiful and sweet Miss Bennet, who had genuinely loved his friend and hadn't believed Wickham's lies.

Elizabeth had told Mrs. Collins of her first marriage rejection but obviously hadn't mentioned his, nor had she apparently mentioned the contents of his letter to anyone. While he was grateful he didn't quite know what to make of it, except, perhaps, that if it was possible, he admired her even more for her discretion.

All hope was lost, yet his heart beat a little faster when he thought that Elizabeth wasn't married and that their paths may cross again one day. That Jane wasn't married either, and Bingley was widowed and still pining for her. It was like a butterfly's fluttering of wings, a ray of light seeping into the woods' damp understory. He didn't know why, but against all common sense the thought made him a little... happy. Hopeful, even.

* * *

Mr. Darcy intuitively knew that he would find Elizabeth when he'd stop thinking so much about her. It was no simple task, though. Impossible, really.

* * *

Poachers were one of the malfeasants Mr. Darcy feared the most. Not because there was scarcity of game or fish in the Pemberley grounds, but because they tended to be quite dangerous to his tenants. It was generally known that he allowed a small amount of fishing and hunting from his tenants (he wouldn't deny them having a little of what was in abundance), but poachers were another story.

Poachers were greedy and ruthless and showed no compassion for the graceful beasts they killed, often leaving them barely alive but in acute suffering. They killed the young and the old, pregnant females or majestic males, with no evident judgement or ends, and they extended this treatment to Lambton dwellers, who often lost stock to them.

With the shire's Militia's assistance, his gamekeeper had caught three scoundrels and they were going to be given an exemplary punishment, given the option of spending ten years in jail or being shipped to the antipodes. Both options looked equally discouraging to prospective Darbyshire poachers, Mr. Darcy thought while he walked the well known paths of Hyde Park.

But really, he was disgusted to witness so much human misery. He frowned and exhaled the breath he was holding in his chest, as if the delicate cloud before him could remove his thoughts from his head too, but his thoughts were interrupted otherwise.

-"Mr. Darcy! Mr. Darcy!", a female voice called him from a bench, and he turned his head to see three women sitting on a bench, surrounded by children and one of them stooping over a pram. He squinted lightly to make out who had called him and placed the name of the one in the middle quite promptly.

-"Mrs. Wainwright, ladies", he saluted with a bow of the head. "What a fine day we have today, don't we?"

-"It certainly is", replied the woman. "Let me introduce you to my friend," she added turning to her right, "Miss Anne Hamilton".

-"My pleasure", said Mr. Darcy but his eyes locked to the woman on the left, who had raised herself from the pram and was holding a baby. His breath caught for a moment in his throat when his mind registered that he had finally found Elizabeth Bennet. For real.


	7. Chapter 7

Mr. Darcy sometimes tried to remember the first time he had met Elizabeth and always came up blank. Her face didn't stand out in the mass of strangers present in that country assembly, from which he barely remembered Miss Bennet and Sir William Lucas.

He was sure it was because her charm lay more in her intelligence and goodness rather than her looks, and once they became apparent to him he had known he was defenceless as a child. His resistance had been futile, and he had experienced a mixture of dazzling elation and fear that had been completely out of his character; still, oddly, he had never felt more like himself.

As time passed he would wonder, were they to meet again, whether he would appreciate her beauty at once or he would need to hear her laughter and witty despise for superciliousness to be charmed again.

* * *

Elizabeth had blushed violently the moment her mistress had called out for Mr. Darcy, so much that she busied herself with baby Emma attempting to go unnoticed by everyone. Being a servant, she knew, her chances were high.

-"Miss Bennet, stand so Mr. Darcy can seat," commanded Mrs. Wainwright.

-"Do not trouble yourself on my account," he said quickly and her whole skin erupted in goosebumps at the sound of his voice.

-"It's no trouble, Sir," she said softly while standing, and only then did she dare to glance up to meet his eyes. It was only a second, perhaps even less, but she wished she hadn't. There was too much to regret.

* * *

It was true that Miss Elizabeth Bennet, formerly of Longbourn, Hertfordshire, was not a breathtaking beauty, and her plain servant clothes were definitely not to her advantage next to the other ladies. However, the moment his eyes met those fine brown eyes that tilted up mischievously at the corners and sparkled with life and laughter, even if the rest of herself was composed and rather low key, he knew, he was exactly were he had been the last time they had met.

He complied with Mrs. Wainwright's request and sat down in the spare seating, mostly to be in the company of Elizabeth for as long as he could. She stood a little apart, but he could see her all the time. The ladies were concerned about a dance Mrs. Wainwright was giving in a fortnight and wanted to know if he would come. Of course he would, and he thought how he could include a reference, a wink, a little something for Elizabeth, but his wit was absent and nothing sounded well in his mind to be allowed into his lips.

He had to tell her something, and strove to take the subject into the children and the park, if anything, to know when or where he could find her again, but it was no use. The ladies acted as if she were invisible and the children were simple accessories. He wondered how she was taking it. To his dismay, the chasm between the two seemed unsurmountable.


	8. Chapter 8

"Fate must be having a grand laugh at me", thought Elizabeth when she noticed Mr. Darcy's tall and fine figure walking with a cane, on the same sidewalk but in the opposite direction. She was carrying a large basket of fruit and toys for the children under her care, and her gait was not the one of a gentleman's daughter used to the country grass anymore. It was the one of someone who spent many hours on her feet and had to carry large things, and still save enough of herself to be ready the next day for more of the same.

As Mr. Darcy was still a hundred yards away and she would rather avoid him she crossed the street as soon as it was clear. She stopped before a shop window displaying dolls and touched the brim of her straw hat with her index, attempting to conceal herself better from the gentleman across the street.

-"Miss Elizabeth, good morning," said Mr. Darcy standing only a yard away from her. Elizabeth startled and felt very silly, but not silly enough to let go of her basket which only shook a little bit.

"What does one do in these circumstances?", she wondered. Best to stick with the facts of etiquette and civility, she decided.

-"Mr. Darcy", she replied as she curtsied, not raising her face enough to see his eyes. "You may call me by my last name, as it's not necessary to address people in my station by seniority", she added quietly.

-"I believe _Miss Elizabeth _may be correctly applied to ladies' whose eldest sisters have not married. If that's your situation, I'd rather keep using it," he replied in his habitual dry voice.

She nodded, which is what servants ought to do when someone of superior rank gives an opinion, and looked sideways to a particularly large carriage passing by them. Silence grew heavy over the noises of the thoroughfare and she wished he would go.

-"I..." he began, "please accept my condolences on the passing of your father," he finished. Elizabeth's head turned sharply from the street to the front of his coat and up she looked him in the face, her eyebrows first arched and then knit in a frown of surprise and mute question. Her lips moved as if trying to formulate it, but no sound came off them.

-"I went to Kent in April to a funeral and Mrs. Collins told me," he said and she nodded, but the frown was still there and felt compelled to continue. "My cousin, Anne de Bourgh... she was very ill," he finished.

-"Poor thing", said Elizabeth very quietly, but then her eyes widened and he covered her mouth with her hand. "Should I..." but stopped there.

Mr. Darcy didn't understand.

-"Should you... what, Miss Elizabeth?"

-"I understand you were engaged to your cousin," she said a little reluctantly because it sounded like gossip. Mr. Darcy, however, didn't look surprised.

-"I wasn't engaged to Anne, but that was Lady Catherine's plan. My aunt can be quite vocal in her wishes, whether they match the reality is another question", he said looking over her shoulder but allowing himself to appreciate the very little smile that danced for a moment on her lips.

-"Are nursemaids and governesses invited to the Wainwright balls?", he asked hoping to see that little smile again.

-"Of course not, Mr. Darcy," and it was a complete success. "Who invites their servants to their balls?"

-"A ball in the country I attended once... I believe there might have been some governesses present," he continued as if arguing with complete logic on his side, which of course, he wasn't.

-"Then you should try to attend more balls in the country, Sir," she replied with more energy in her voice, which sounded more and more like he remembered it.

-"I should check my appointments book, but I believe there is none in my near future. That's a shame, isn't it?", and she looked down and blushed, but the smile was still there and he could bet her eyes were sparkling. "Instead I will go to Hyde Park often. How about you?", he asked boldly but he had to.

It sounded a little too furtive but the Park was a public place and she would be with the Wainwright children.

-"We may go during the week, but never on weekends. In the afternoons, but before tea", she added but felt quite nervous.

-"I usually go in the mornings", he said heedless or her discomfort or perhaps all the opposite. "And sometimes in the afternoons. We may meet there, or may not." He tipped his hat. "I believe you should get going, Miss Elizabeth. Have a nice day", he said and set off first.

Elizabeth was a bit disconcerted by this conversation but kept the thought locked to examine it later, as many other things were claiming for her attention and her day had just started.


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Thanks to everyone who's left a review, but make them superlative to fia-blue, best partner in crime there can be, and LotsOfLaundry, my first reviewer of my first story. Hat tip to you, dear ladies!_

* * *

"It takes a lot of work being careless when one is everything but", mused Mr. Darcy as he carefully planned his weekly appointments around fortuitous meetings with Elizabeth at Hyde Park. He had decided he wouldn't see her more than once a week, but wouldn't let two weeks go without, at least, a bow of the head and a smile of greetings.

He knew he had sounded too forthright and did not like it but his chances of being in her company were minimal, and in all honesty, he would not regret provoking (and admiring) that becoming blush and reluctant smile gracing her lips.

* * *

Elizabeth thought often of her meeting with Mr. Darcy and went to the park with the children with a sense of foreboding. She couldn't shake the remembrance that she had once been cruel and unfair to him, and that for her insolent words she had been punished.

He could have sniggered at her misfortune, being that he had given her the opportunity to avoid it by revealing Wickham's true character. She had been the only one to know the truth and she hadn't done anything to avert the tragedy. It was a heavy burden on her shoulders.

To his mention of governesses and balls, she thought he might have been gloating; for what she once had and enjoyed but was now, even if closer than ever, well beyond her reach. Didn't he know servants don't come to balls? Was it a mockery to her feelings and diminished situation? While it wasn't a nice thought, Elizabeth believed Mr. Darcy might have been laughing at her, and even if it pained her, she couldn't blame him for it.

In spite of her misgivings, she had to admit that Mr. Darcy was always very courteous when they met. He would cross them at the park or on the street, and stop for a moment to chat, which consisted of simple of remarks on the weather or a salutation if it was a festive date.

Elizabeth did not know whether he was readying himself to attack, exposing and humiliating her, or whether he was simply a very courteous gentleman who for some unknown reason didn't care much for her situation. She quite didn't know how to understand it, and mentioned it to Jane one Sunday, their free day, over tea.

The eldest Miss Bennet, true to her character and still oblivious to the role said gentleman had played in her present unhappiness, said this was a chance for Elizabeth to make Mr. Darcy justice. Elizabeth was not so sure but did not contradict her sister.


	10. Chapter 10

Mrs. Abigail Wainwright _née_ Swanson, Elizabeth's employer, came from a family whose fortune had originated in the trade of tobacco and sugar, and after the independence of the American colonies had moved over to clothing goods and firearms. While already quite wealthy, by marrying Mr. Wainwright Miss Abigail had attained access to the higher circles of society that had proved elusive, which not even the exclusive schools her brothers attended or her own French governess had helped reach before.

One would believe Mrs. Wainwright would ease her anxious mannerisms once she felt at home with her new circle, but seven years into her marriage that was still to happen. Elizabeth noted it at once and made every possible effort to discreetly ignore her mistress' disparaging comments, and more often than not she achieved it largely. However, from time to time she was still struck by the lady of the house's habit of measuring people by their fortunes and social stature, and her crude remarks that contrasted harshly with her aspirations.

Certain afternoon Mrs. Wainwright decided to call on one of her brothers, who lived very close with his wife and young boys. As their visits were frequent and usually unannounced, she simply took the children along and Elizabeth accompanied them. They arrived and were shown to the drawing room, where Mrs. Swanson was having tea with a young lady Elizabeth hadn't seen before.

The guest sat upright and drank her tea through pursed lips, and attempted only a little conversation with the host and newcomer guest. Elizabeth cast a glance at the stranger before taking the children to another room;she wore finery of the latest fashion perfectly complimenting her figure and complexion, in a display of refinement that bespoke of a privileged birth and careful upbringing. Nobody learned to dress that way just by looking at figurines.

An hour and a half later she was summoned to the drawing room. The guest had left, and Elizabeth caught the final comments of a conversation between the ladies.

-"Lady Cavendish thinks herself to be above the company", said Mrs. Swanson, "but I would like my children to associate with hers."

-"She is famously proud, exceedingly proud, I must say", added Mrs. Wainwright with a pout. "I tolerate her because of her brother, as I am sure many other ladies do," and both ladies chuckled while stirring their cups of tea.

Elizabeth thought it was of extreme bad taste to refer to a guest of the house in such terms, but the lady in question had certainly seemed aloof and unconcerned.

* * *

_A/N: Thanks to everyone who helped word the sentence about finery of the latest fashion. Much appreciated._


	11. Chapter 11

Sunday was Elizabeth's favourite day of the week. Not because she didn't have to work, which was half truth (she did have to attend the service with the Wainwright family and tidy her things up before leaving, only to be back at sunset), but because she would meet with her family. Her Sundays were spent with Jane and the Gardiners in Gracechurch street.

Sunday afternoons had a glimmer of the careless past, and neither Elizabeth nor Jane, nor their dear aunt, would ever let the present concerns cast shadows over the quiet enjoyment of the moment. They wouldn't do anything special; they would usually stay indoors with their needlework, playing with the Gardiner children and talking of mundane things. If the weather was fine their uncle may take all the family out for a ride. Elizabeth always felt rejuvenated and Mondays thus felt lighter. Family had this effect on Elizabeth, and it comforted her while it brought a bittersweet note.

Her family, the protective cocoon of her childhood, had taken a blow with Lydia's elopement and had completely disbanded when her father died. Mrs. Bennet now lived in Meryton with her attorney brother and his family, being for all purposes a help to the cook; Mary had married a widowed vicar with five young children and lived near Bournemouth, and Kitty was a lady in waiting (more of a nurse, actually) to an old lady in Bath. And Lydia... Lydia was very ill. Elizabeth needed to swallow a few times before paying a visit to her youngest sister, who lived in a dilapidated boarding house in the slums, gathering her courage because it had been evident for a while that her end was near.

Elizabeth knew well, as Lydia herself did, that her fate had been brought by her own foolish recklesness with little to blame on youth or innocence. But still, Lydia was the feisty little sister Lizzy should have done more to protect from Wickham, evil and dissolute Wickham of the charming ways and no friends. Elizabeth always bore this in mind and spared a sizeable portion of her earnings to support her sister, always saved old clothes from the Wainwright household for her, always made sure she showed up with food. It gave her little peace of mind but she never relented.

Even Jane had been surprised by Elizabeth's prompt and complete forgiveness of Lydia, and would have been even more astounded had she known the origin of it was Mr. Darcy. The words he had chosen to express his brotherly concern for Miss Darcy in his letter for her, and his description of his management of the affair with Wickham, had made a strong impression in her mind and she believed she should have acted similarly with her own sister. That her means were not such like his had little importance for her; she felt she had failed in her sisterly duty.

It must be said that in spite of the latest years' worries and misfortunes, Elizabeth's sunny disposition and inner strength had prevented her from becoming bitter and broken. She regretted the past mistakes but didn't dwell on what couldn't be changed. She didn't regret having turned down Mr. Collins, and as for Mr. Darcy... as of late she had started to feel her rejection might have been even more unfounded than what concerned Wickham, and surely deserving of an apology. But she didn't dwell much on that, either.

Such thoughts occupied her mind while she took Edward and Josephine, her oldest charges, to play in the park. They crossed Mr. Darcy near the entrance; this time he seemed to be going in a hurry and acknowledged their presence just by nodding at them politely without stopping.

Little Josephine had brought some stale bread to feed the ducks at the pond and they headed over that area first. The children in attendance and their nurses were all regulars of that spot, and Elizabeth greeted the other adults with a slight bow and affectionally patted the heads of some playing companions of her charges.

After the bread crumbs were finished they moved over to a hill, and on their way passed by a secluded bench where a lady, in finery of the latest fashion and most complimenting colouring, was sitting with a little boy on her lap. Elizabeth glanced discreetly at her but she didn't look back, busy as she was tickling the toddler and affecting being tickled back by his chubby fingers. The lady's soft laughter reached Elizabeth ears and she saw, out of the corner of her eye, that another woman had joined the lady on the bench and they were both relaxed and smiling.


	12. Chapter 12

Mr. Darcy's season was, lately much to his chagrin, quite predictable. The activities were scheduled well in advance, and it often seemed to him that the social functions he attended were well scripted and equally predictable as well. The conversations, the dances, the food and drinks, the purposes. He had wanted to believe that the seasons of London's society were cycles much like Nature's seasons, but they lacked Nature's momentum and ability to surprise him. The coming out of another young lady, often nervous and pretentious, had little to offer against the thrill of witnessing the budding of new leaves in a seemingly dead tree.

Even if life in Pemberley could look repetitive or eventless, his days there were textured with the inherent little affairs of being alive; the distinctive sound of rain in summer and autumn, the meadows changing hues with the passing of months, the fishing and hunting, the comings and goings of his servants and tenants. He took notice of marriages and births and often provided families with a little gift; when illness struck in his estate a doctor was always available, and when deaths occurred he made sure the funeral rites were carried out with decorum and the remaining family was attended to. These days all the thrill in his life amounted to crossing a few words with certain lady once a week or so. It wasn't much, that was true.

The best thing about being in town for the season, Mr. Darcy had accepted long ago, was that he could call on Georgiana often. Her husband, Lord Cavendish, was not yet in his forties and had a circumspect frown belied by a jesting nature, a contradiction which invariably made Georgiana laugh. He also professed a wordless adoration for his wife, which had displaced Mr. Darcy's brotherly concern for a measure of very secret jealousy.

Mr. Darcy quite enjoyed his intercourse with his brother-in-law and his now adult sister. Georgiana was still shy and quiet when in presence of more outspoken ladies (he remembered her feeling uncomfortable in Caroline Bingley's presence), but had surrounded herself with people she trusted well. Mrs. Annesley, her former companion, was now his nephew's nurse, and her new sisters-in-law were friendly without being invasive. In all, he thought, Georgiana's life had turned out well in spite of the almost tragedy of Wickham's crooked proposal. While they had never mentioned that name again Mr. Darcy knew his sister was still ashamed of her behaviour back in Ramsgate, and was thankful that the course of her life had returned to normality.

* * *

Mr. Darcy's long legged stride took him quickly to his sister's home. His hand held a little package containing French poetry books Georgiana liked; he had purchased these that very afternoon to a specialised bookseller of his acquaintance. Matter of fact he had gone straight from seeing Georgiana to the little shop near Charing Cross, afraid it might have already closed and hadn't stopped to talk to Elizabeth.

He knew better than to jump into conclusions with Miss Elizabeth Bennet but he had noticed she never wore aprons or headwear that signaled her status of servant, unlike the time when she had been with her mistress. And he also had noticed that never, not even when it was quite sunny, did she wear her straw hat. There might be a mundane reason for it, perhaps it was broken or she had been asked not to wear it by someone, but selfishly, he reveled in it. Just by being able to dive into Elizabeth's beautiful, intelligent eyes and appreciate the graceful blush that often spreaded over her cheeks, made his day worthy of private notice.


	13. Chapter 13

Josephine Wainwright was a good sister. Everyone said so. She was always eager to play with her older brother, and her little sister Emma, who wasn't one year old yet, preferred her to anyone else. Yes, Josephine knew she had a gift with small children and loved going to the park, where so many little children came with their nursemaids, and play with their rattles and make funny faces. She didn't understand why adults tended to behave with her as if she was a little girl too... she was five years old now! One needed a full hand to show how many birthdays she had celebrated and Hudson, their coach driver, couldn't even use his left hand for he missed two fingers there.

As it was their custom every day without rain Miss Bennet took them to the park, and once there she made them walk around a lot. Miss Bennet was unlike the other children's nurses; she didn't seem to mind running after a ball with Edward and never gossiped like their nursemaid used to. Josephine was very fond of Miss Bennet and had decided she wanted be like her when she grew up.

To impress her governess with how well she was doing and how fast she was growing up, she approached a toddler they found playing with a rattle near some flowery bushes, and snatched his rattle to show him how to play correctly. It was quite simple and she'd be doing him a favour, surely she would earn his gratitude.

Josephine hadn't counted on the toddler breaking down in loud crying and Miss Bennet being upset, though. Two women, the younger very elegant and the older plain dressed but of a pleasant countenance, stood up immediately from their bench and came up to where she was standing, wood and copper rattle still in hand, surprised by the outcome of her good deed.

-"Josephine, please return the rattle to this boy", Miss Bennet said in a tight voice. For some reason Miss Bennet was blushing but it didn't seem like a good thing.

-"But I'm just showing him how to play," she attempted to argue and frowning.

-"Josephine, now!" Miss Bennet's eyes were wide and Josephine was suddenly afraid of her lovely governess. Maybe she didn't want to be like her when she'd grow up, after all.

The little boy was still bawling. The older woman picked him up, and Miss Bennet snatched the rattle from her hand and gave it to the younger woman.

-"I apologise for this young lady's behaviour, madam", she said while she curtsied.

-"Oh, don't trouble yourself", said the young lady in a very pleasant voice. "What's your name, darling?" she asked her.

-"Josephine Wainwright, madam", she replied as Miss Bennet had taught her.

-"I am Lady Cavendish. Obliged to make your acquaintance, Miss Wainwright", she said and curtsied as if she, Josephine, was a grand lady dressing in finery like hers. "We have our picnic basket here, would you or your company like a refreshment or candied fruit?"

Edward didn't wait for Miss Bennet to reply. At the word "candy" he smiled widely, the smile he knew that won him things, and the older lady laughed. She had red candy too, and Miss Bennet ate a nectarine.

* * *

Finding Lady Cavendish became soon the first thing to do when going to the park. The siblings would challenge each other to be the first to spot her, and once Josephine drew a little card for her. It alluded, of course, the picnic basket and its contents. Sometimes they would all take Daniel, her son (she supposed that was his name, for they'd call him "Dada"), to feed the ducks, but he didn't seem to like it much. But he had certainly forgiven her for snatching his rattle.

Lady Cavendish and her companion, Mrs. Annesley, were very nice and Miss Bennet seemed to like them a lot. Sometimes Josephine would hear them talking, only fragments of conversation while she was playing with her dolls, but Josephine considered Lady Cavendish and Mrs. Annesley old friends and once invited them for tea.

Her Ladyship thanked Josephine profusely but said they had previous engagements. She promised, however, that they would be seeing each other indoors one day.


	14. Chapter 14

Elizabeth didn't relish the thought of informing Mrs. Wainwright of the children's acquaintance with Lady Cavendish, but did it sooner than later. As expected Mrs. Wainwright was elated at this new connection of hers, and proceeded to call on Lady Cavendish and invite her for tea.

Her Ladyship wasn't exceedingly proud, Elizabeth had soon discovered, but exceedingly shy and didn't seem quite at ease when she was having tea with Mrs. Wainwright and Mrs. Swanson. There was something faintly familiar about her Elizabeth couldn't put a finger on, for she was sure they hadn't met before. There was something about Lady Cavendish's face and gestures... and her voice, a very light trace of accent in her speech that betrayed she hadn't always lived in town. Where, really, she had no idea and no plans to enquiry for such personal information.

During the little Elizabeth saw of her in her visits Lady Cavendish never spoke much with her host and fellow guests, and seemed to favour musical soirées over balls or fashions as a topic of conversation, and definitely over gossip. Once she even played the piano with both proficiency and enthusiasm, with a thorough enjoyment that was sadly mistaken by the present company. But what Lady Cavendish never left the Wainwright home without doing, regardless of the hour or day of her visit, was going up to the children's room and chatting a little with Elizabeth and Josephine. Such deference was always heartfelt by both the governess and the girl, whom had by now developed a particular affection for the young Lady.

* * *

As it was his habit, Mr. Darcy had left town for Derbyshire before the summer had started and planned on staying at least for several months. Pemberley was in order and he enjoyed himself there, and the all small little routines that disfigured themselves so easily when he was in town, except, perhaps, the carefully planning of meeting Elizabeth. He was so mindful of when he saw her and he would see her next, that he had even said goodbye last time they had met... serendipitously, of course.

While in Pemberley he kept a regular correspondence with his sister, which contained all the loving minutiae of a young mother discovering the world through her son's eyes as well as other observations concerning Georgiana's interests. She would often mention music and ask him for sheets of scores kept in Pemberley, or would review the botanical species of the Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park. Sometimes she would even include a sketch of young Darcy playing in the grass or a flower or leaf.

Mr. Darcy placed large importance in his sister's letters. They showed that his sister was happy, and he delighted in her quiet enthusiasm of life.

Georgiana's latest letter contained an unusual passage referring to a conversation Georgiana had overheard (or at least seemed to have developed without her) Mrs. Annesley having with someone else. This person, a woman from what he could tell, had told Mrs. Annesley she preferred being in a paid position to an unhappy marriage; she could change employers more easily than husbands without resourcing to murder, this person joked and Georgiana duly reported. Mr. Darcy supposed this was probably a chaperone or lady in waiting, much as Mrs. Annesley herself (who was actually a widow), and wondered why Georgiana had been so caught in the rapport. Georgiana concluded the passage observing that the woman in question seemed contented in her position and wondered how her own life would be if she had had to work.

Mr. Darcy was a little puzzled by this segment of Georgiana's letter, but he considered it in his reply. He told his sister that he could understand someone not wanting to be involved in a bad marriage, and that this person had probably witnessed either unhappy couples or the hardships of maintaining a family (here Mr. Darcy thought of their own parents but didn't mentioned them), but he could hardly understand someone who preferred working to being married _at all._

Georgiana replied in turn, that it had seemed to her the reluctance had been brought by reprehensible suitors rather than repulsion to the institution of marriage, and they didn't mention the subject again.


	15. Chapter 15

Christmas was only a week away when Mr. Darcy left Pemberley for town again. In the past few months he had thought of Elizabeth and had wished, fervently on occasions, that she hadn't changed employers or routines during his absence, but he had no means of knowing this until we had settled for the season.

In addition to his closest relatives he had also kept correspondence with Mr. Bingley. Not as regular as he would have preferred, but quite good considering his friend's lack of fondness for writing full letters legible to readers of the English language, and the distance to his current home in Greece. Mr. Bingley's letters sometimes attached a memento, like small statuettes or coins; Mr. Darcy knew these were probably valuable antiques and preserved them carefully.

Apparently Mr. Bingley was finishing mourning his wife and child. When witnessing his friend's grief at the loss of a wife he hadn't loved as much as he had Miss Bennet, Mr. Darcy had faced the fact that he had utterly belittled Mr. Bingley's ability to love and suffer, and regretted, more bitterly than ever, having intruded and helped sever their budding romance. It had become a heavier burden as of late, and he wondered if he would ever have the chance to rectify his mistake.

Sometimes Mr. Bingley mentioned the possibility of going back to England, but in his next letter he would be touring the Mediterranean coast and the plan was effectively pushed back. Mr. Darcy sometimes doubted he would ever see his friend's face again, and applied himself to maintain the friendship alive in their letters.

* * *

January could be bleak and cold but sometimes offered little golden gifts like this day, thought Elizabeth when she saw the rare bright sun of that midwinter's day. Josephine was visiting her cousins, but Edward was at home and perked at the plan of going to the park and stretch his legs.

Governess and child left home after luncheon for the Hyde Park. The Wainwright's carriage left them at the main entrance, to pick them up at the same spot three hours later. Once inside they headed for the fountain where many nursemaids and governesses brought their charges to check if any of Edward's regular playing companions had come today, but it quickly become obvious that was not the case. Only little girls in white coats had come today, apparently, and Edward was furious.

Miss Bennet greeted another woman and they started talking, and Edward's annoyance only increased. What was she doing? Oh, how boring! This would not do!

* * *

Elizabeth was happy she had met Jane at the park, which was quite unusual but not without precedents. She greeted her and mentioned a letter she had received from Lydia, with the good news that their sister had a new friend, another boarder, who took care of her laundry and made her company. She stoop to tie one of Jane's charges' bootlaces, and when she stood up and looked around, Edward was nowhere to be seen.

Feeling a jolt of nervousness she set out to locate him - most likely he was playing hide and seek and was behind some bench, he couldn't have gone really far. He was too small, though not really... he was already seven, and with a lot of pent up energy after so many days of staying home because of bad weather, he could indeed move fast. She knew that.

Jane had to leave and gave her a last reassuring glance trying to conceal her worry, and Elizabeth felt fear uncurling like a black and dangerous viper in her gut. She tried to keep it down so she could call Edward, which she did, and repeatedly, to no avail. Edward had vanished.

Elizabeth didn't allow her agitation to silence her voice and render her inactive. She could feel the soles of her shoes already seemed nailed to where she was standing and the petrifying effect was creeping up her limbs, so she willed herself to move around even if a plan of action was impossible. She ran along the path to the west praying it would lead her to him, calling him with all her might.

-"Edward! Edward!"

Nobody replied. Ladies and gentlemen parading in their best clothes cast disapproval glances her way and she was aware of the many connotations of the situation. But first and foremost she was worried about the well being young boy in her care - later she would have time to fret over her post.

Maybe he had fallen into the water. Maybe he had climbed up a tree. Elizabeth considered these options too, but didn't despair at them more than Edward going away with a stranger or being harmed by a horse. While it was widely known that her childhood in Longbourn had made her a keen walker, it was lesser known (almost a secret given her situation), that she was also an able swimmer and tree climber. Elizabeth would spare not a thought to propriety would she have to resource to these less than common skills, but there wasn't any trace of Edward in such vicissitudes.

Elizabeth's pulse beat in her ears like the hooves of a runaway horse. She kept calling Edward and running, not knowing what to do, praying, and only to herself, crying.

The path had a sharp turn, and when she took it she met, face to face, with Edward. The boy, oblivious to her distress, was laughing and made her a military salute pointing his right hand, palm down, to his right temple. Elizabeth's relief at seeing him safe overwhelmed her momentarily, and she allowed herself to hug him closely and kiss his head time and again.

- "Edward, Edward," she couldn't stop saying his name. "Where were you? I was so worried!"

-"I was with him," replied the little boy and only then did Elizabeth realise that he was not alone. A man with a thick beard and a scar marrying his left cheek was looking pointedly at her, and exclaimed,

-"Miss Elizabeth Bennet"

It took her a moment to place that voice to a face she hadn't seen in a long time, and her eyebrows rose in recognition. He spoke again,

-"Small world, isn't it?"


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N: Brownie points to fishistix for getting it right in record time, and a huge thank you to LotsOfLaundry for her technical assistance with this chapter._

* * *

-"Colonel Fitzwilliam! How are you?", Elizabeth's voice came out strangled and short of breath due to the latest emotions.

-"You know my cousin, Miss Elizabeth?," a female voice politely asked and Elizabeth then noticed Lady Cavendish and Mr. Darcy raising from a bench and approaching now to where she was. It dawned on Elizabeth now, seeing the stately Lady and Mr. Darcy side by side, why she had always found something familiar about her; she surely must be Mr. Darcy's sister and bore a remarkable resemblance with the aunt, Lady Catherine. The polarity in the Ladies' characters had made it impossible for Elizabeth to relate one to the other, but they certainly looked alike.

Lady Cavendish used to be Miss Georgiana Darcy. Elizabeth could hardly utter an intelligent word as all the little memories concerning the lady before her assembled together like a complex clockwork... "Exceedingly proud", that was Wickham. "My brother's prospective bride", oh, Miss Bingley. "Accomplished at the pianoforte", those were Lady Catherine and Mr. Darcy. It all made perfect sense.

Elizabeth's state of shock didn't prevent her from noticing the other members of the party exchanging questioning glances. Lady Cavendish spoke first, probably to her brother.

-"Miss Bennet comes often to the park, I think I mentioned her in my letters. Do you know her too?"

-"Yes, from Rosings", that was Colonel Fitzwilliam speaking. "I believe she was a guest of the vicar's, Mr. Collins."

-"I met Miss Bennet in Hertfordshire with Mr. Bingley, a long time ago," that one was Mr. Darcy.

-"Oh, does Mr. Bingley know Miss Bennet too? That's wonderful!" Lady Cavendish, Georgiana, added happily.

-"Have you been to Rosings again, Miss Bennet? I'm sorry I missed you." added the Colonel.

Elizabeth forced herself out of her stunned state at the realisation that the people before her knew probably far too much about her to be comfortable with, and attempted a modicum of normality by greeting them with an address and curtsey to each. The Colonel seemed surprised but returned the salute.

-"Well, but how have you been, Miss Elizabeth?" the Colonel asked good naturedly. "Is this your son or nephew?"

-"Oh, no." Elizabeth had only felt embarrassment for her diminished situation only once before, coincidentally to a present gentleman, but this was a surely second time. "I am a governess now," she clarified blushing anew but looking the Colonel in the eye, "to the children of Mr. and Mrs. George Wainwright. This is Edward Wainwright, their oldest son."

Much to her further mortification, all three adults noticed her reddening cheeks and probably guessed or knew of its reasons. The Colonel seemed at a loss for words.

-"I am glad to... see you're in good health", he said smiling weakly, but Elizabeth feared to detect contempt in his voice. He addressed then to Edward. "You haven't behaved like a good soldier, my boy. You made Miss Bennet upset and you deserve punishment." He looked up at her and added, "and you must certainly apologise to her."

Edward was becoming aware of the extent of his wrongdoing and seemed more and more nervous by the minute. He attempted to divert the attention by obeying and offering his apologies to Miss Bennet, and then marching just as the Coloned had been showing him how to, but couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom that materialised later as the deprivation of desert and an early time for bed.

Elizabeth didn't know where to look and the blushing on her face seemed reluctant to subside. "I hope they think it's because of the exercise", she thought, but in fact she felt very uncomfortable, and what was mostly against her character, quite resigned to it.

Mr. Darcy said he had come for the season and would likely stay in town until June. The Colonel said he had fought in the wars in the Continent and was now retired. Lady Cavendish said her little son had stayed at home with Mrs. Annesley. Elizabeth didn't say anything.

Time to leave rolled around with the sun rays falling obliquely over the meadows of the park and the chill of the evening's breeze. The whole party walked leisurely to the main entrance of the park, where they parted ways, each to their respective waiting carriages, without the express formal wish of meeting each other again soon.


	17. Chapter 17

Mr. Darcy, his sister and their cousin climbed into his carriage, which was not far from the main entrance. Elizabeth's obvious discomfort at the blunt confrontation with her falling caused him no little guilt, and he felt his relatives needed to know the truth, which he also felt, had to come from himself. What occupied his mind now was the thorough examination and determination of how much he should reveal, and how much he rather keep to himself.

The Colonel broke the silence with a chuckle.

-"I wouldn't have expected Miss Elizabeth Bennet here, what a delightful person she is!"

Georgiana replied with a smile.

-"That's true, Richard," and then she frowned a little, "but I thought she seemed a little uncomfortable. Awkward, even. I understand she sought employment at the death of her father, but I don't see anything to blush about that," she added loyally.

-"Miss Bennet," continued the Colonel, "is accountable for the most entertaining dinner I've ever had at Rosings, and probably Fitzwilliam's too," at this Mr. Darcy nodded. "Miss Bennet's wit and disregard for Lady Catherine's peremptory manners almost made our aunt have an apoplexy."

Georgiana laughed softly.

-"How scandalous, this is not to be borne!", she exclaimed in mock offence. "Lady Catherine's intimidation tactics did not work, pray, say more!"

-"I don't remember her words exactly, because this happened before I left, so it was... perhaps five or six years ago. I'm not mistaken, aunt interrogated Miss Bennet on her education, skills, family and age, and made comments of each as if Miss Bennet had had much choice on either." Here the Colonel affected Lady Catherine's speech. "_Five sisters? No governess? You don't draw? You don't speak Chinese? You don't drink your tea while riding a horse! How very strange!_"

Both Georgiana and the Colonel broke out laughing. Mr. Darcy smiled. The Colonel continued.

-"When aunt asked why the youngest sisters were out before the oldest were married, she replied something to the effect that the opposite wouldn't promote sisterly affection. I thought that was brilliant, but she surpassed it when Her Ladyship asked for her age and she refused to answer directly. Her words meant that it was obvious she was one and twenty, so she wasn't going to say it. Her Ladyship was speechless, for once! I almost choked on my soup, and even cousin Anne was having difficulty keeping her face straight. It was hilarious!"

-"I have too heard Miss Bennet saying outrageous things without a slip. She told Mrs. Annesley she was happier being a governess than married to an obnoxious suitor she once had." Georgiana and the Colonel were oblivious to Mr. Darcy widening his eyes and gasping in the darkness of his corner, and went on with their conversation. "I have no difficulties believing it!"

-"But I wonder why she was became so awkward when I asked if she had been back to Rosings", mused the Colonel aloud.

-"Because she's been banned from it," Mr. Darcy spoke for the first time, sad to kill the festive mood of the conversation and the good memories it brought. "It's a long story, of which I only have partial intelligence and understanding."

-"Is it possible to coax such information out of you with just a polite request?", asked the Colonel seemingly joking but actually dead serious.

-"It is," replied Mr. Darcy, "but I rather not do it here, in this carriage. Maybe during dinner, if Lord Cavendish graces us either with his presence or allowing his wife to come."

-"He will," was Georgiana's reply.

* * *

Elizabeth was both glad and wary of returning home that evening. No governess wants to bring the news that she had almost lost her charge in the park, but she knew it came with the job and hoped Mrs. Wainwright would commiserate and apply punishment. No desert and early bedtime would be enough, she thought.

But she was also relieved the day was over. The fear she had experienced when looking for Edward, and the sheer... awkwardness of the surprise meeting with Mr. Darcy and his family was too much for one day trip. She didn't feel mistress of herself until much later, stunned by the fact that she had met the former Miss Georgiana Darcy, and had developed the highest regard for her, without a clue that she had met more of her relations and that she had had so much previous knowledge of her person.

Lady Georgiana was quite similar to Lady Catherine, she realised, in looks and in pose for the world. They were both born into the same family and probably had very similar upbringings, yet she felt the difference in age was the least important of their contrasts. Where one was overbearing the other was reserved, where one was rash the other was polite. The older lady thought too well of herself, the younger lady was humble and shy. The older lady was proud, the younger lady only seemed so.

The younger lady was like her brother.

The thought hit Elizabeth like a thunderbolt. Could Mr. Darcy be just reserved and quiet? Polite and even, shy? No, it couldn't be.

Mr. Darcy had thought it was in his power to separate Bingley and Jane, but... hadn't he acted just as quickly shortly before when he perceived someone of his affection, his sister in this case, was on the verge of a very disadvantageous marriage? He might have been mislead, but she was now sure he hadn't been moved by wretched motives. Charlotte had also noticed Jane was very quiet in her expressing her attachment for Mr. Bingley and she couldn't blame other people who didn't know Jane as well as she did to think similarly.

His words about Wickham, she had learned long ago in the hardest way, were all true.

As for his contempt for her inferior birth... well, she could not deny she was of inferior birth herself, but... could he have meant it as a compliment? A strange one, but he was truly stating that his feelings for her were more important than her lesser station, wasn't he?

He had proposed with the arrogant certainty that she would accept, but wasn't that a logical conclusion on his part? Yes it was. Logic dictated she would take him, but she had given to much weight to considerations that now were losing ground.

And today she had met the relations that were his closest, the ones that he cared more about. These could have been hers too had she accepted, had she paid no heed to her misplaced pride and blinding prejudice.

Elizabeth went to bed with a heavy heart. Self pity was not a mood she indulged in often, but tonight every attempt to change it failed horribly and she cried herself to sleep.


	18. Chapter 18

Mr. Darcy and the Colonel Fitzwilliam were in the former's home library when Lady Georgiana arrived. Lord Cavendish had stayed home with a new treatise on exotic plants, or perhaps, at his wife's request.

Colonel Fitzwilliam was curious and anxious to hear his cousin's story, but he was aware that the reserved nature of Mr. Darcy would not make it simple. His cousin had behaved quite out of character that one time at Rosings, postponing their retreat time and again only to leaving all of a sudden. The Colonel had witnessed his cousin's attempts to approach Miss Bennet and had realised she misunderstood them, so he had tried to help putting in a good word for him. From what he could gleam it had not been of help; he had not heard from Miss Bennet again until today.

Georgiana was shown to the library and they decided to have a cup of tea and have dinner later. When the tea things were in place, the servant was dismissed and they were alone. Mr. Darcy started speaking the words he had been pondering for the past hours.

-"Georgiana, Richard, I wish I didn't have to be talking about other people's misfortunes but as it is, it's not a business completely foreign to us. Mr. Bennet owned a small estate in Hertfordshire that had an entailment to a male descendant. Since the Bennets only had girls at his death none qualified to claim it, so it passed on to Mr. William Collins, Aunt Catherine's vicar."

Georgiana's face said what her voice didn't. "Mr. Collins and Miss Bennet are relatives? Really?"

-"To the best of my knowledge none of the Bennet sisters is married, so they found themselves in need to search for paid positions. This situation, however, has been going on before the father died because of a previous tragedy that befell the Bennet family, and for which I personally feel quite responsible."

Both Georgiana and the Colonel presciented that they would hear a name they loathed. Mr. Darcy knew it, too.

-"George Wickham. He seduced and ruined the youngest Miss Bennet, left her with child and an unmentionable illness. Forgive me Georgiana," he said with a voice rendered tight by all the emotions it attempted to rein, "it pains me to bring this up in your presence. I still blame myself for... having fostered him, for not having thrown him into jail or sent him away as soon as I realised of his true character."

Georgiana's face was downcast, but she regrouped and looked up in defiance.

-"I learned from my mistake and it's in the past now," she said.

Mr. Darcy closed his eyes for a moment letting gratefulness wash over him, but opened them to continue his narration.

-"Miss Bennet went to Rosings not as a guest of Mr. Collins, with whom she had had barely a passing acquaintance before, but of Mrs. Collins. I understand Mrs. Collins and Miss Bennet were close friends, but in the wake of the scandal that ensued their friendship has been severed by either Mr. Collins or Lady Catherine."

Georgiana, the only female present and the shyest individual, felt this last part acutely. She placed a great importance in friendship and valued Elizabeth's very highly; being forced to cut ties because of something Elizabeth didn't have any responsibility in, would be a cataclism in her delicate universe.

-"This is why Miss Bennet cannot go to Rosings again", he finished.

-"I do not want to turn my back on Miss Bennet," Georgiana said suddenly. "I am sorry any of this happened, I am sorry I might have encouraged it. It's just that... please Fitzwilliam, do not say I should..."

-"Georgiana," he interrupted. "You're a married woman now. You should choose your own relations. I also feel I might have encouraged him, I even suspect some of his misdeeds were actually directed at me," Mr. Darcy fixed his gaze on his cup, for this was a very hurtful comment to Georgiana's _amour propre_.

-"I might have thought the same," was her reply. He looked up to meet his sister's eyes, brilliant and serious.

-"I'm so proud of you", the Colonel spoke for the first time. Georgiana smiled shyly.

-"I will... I will continue my acquaintance with Miss Bennet," said Georgiana, her voice stronger now, "I will tell her of my own mistake," she added.

Mr. Darcy felt his cousin's gaze on him.

-"Georgiana, she might already know it." Georgiana's eyes widened and Mr. Darcy continued. "At Rosings Miss Bennet accused me of being Wickham's source of misfortunes," at the horrified and disgusted looks of the others he continued, "yes, I know. She had met Wickham in Hertfordshire and he said God knows what, but I felt I had to defend myself."

Mr. Darcy was silent. He did not want to avow the feelings he once had and still affected him so deeply, he did not want to share the crushed hopes of the plans he once entertained. No, he was not ready for that, nor did he see the purpose.

-"Given the circumstances I thought the most appropriate course of action was to write her a letter, which I delivered in person. I trusted Miss Bennet and have not been disappointed; whether it was because of her natural discretion or because she didn't read it, I don't know," he finally admitted. "Forgive me," he pleaded to his sister.

-"Well," Georgiana fanned herself with her ornate little fan, "this is... awkward. But I forgive you, Fitzwilliam, of course. I would trust her myself, so it does not make much difference."

-"Oh, yes, awkward it is", countered the Colonel, who had been silently listening to the rapport. "I wonder how things would have turned out had I married her."

Brother and sister turned their heads sharply at their cousin in disbelief.

-"Excuse me?" Mr. Darcy said in an almost growl.

-"Well, obviously the thought crossed my mind." The Colonel stated it as it was the most indisputable fact. "She is charming and gently born; the only thing stopping me from proposing was the lack of wealth on either side. I might have gone as far as suggesting it," he added nonchalantly. "Alright, I did suggest it and most likely she caught it. But no harm done," he smiled. "I hope so," he added lightly.

The subject seemed exhausted though it was far from it. The party walked on to the dining room, where soup was served, and the conversation moved on to lighter subjects. After eating Georgiana played a new piece, and shortly afterwards left for her home. The gentlemen retired to their bedchambers, one feeling intrigued, the other, overwhelmed.


	19. Chapter 19

The next day brought good news for Elizabeth. A letter from her youngest sister, sad as it normally was, contained a positive note and Elizabeth was happy to perceive the Lydia of old singing and laughing through the thickly written lines. Bessy Williams, a new boarder originally from the North, was helping her with her daily chores, keeping her company and on occasion did nurse duties too. Lydia was very ill, that was true, but she was also bored and this Miss Williams was a change for good.

Elizabeth did her morning toilette with particular care. Her night had been long; sleep and rest had evaded her and in the wee hours of the morning, when the house had been completely still and the only living sound she could hear was a dog barking in the distance, she had arrived to the conclusion that the only chance she had of returning Mr. Darcy's feelings (if they were rekindled, of which she was not too sure), was by becoming his mistress.

It was not a thought she relished or a possibility she considered seriously, for it would mean to stoop even lower and could harm Jane and Kitty even further, not to mention herself. She had made a mistake once when she was young and foolish, but she would not make such mistakes again. Such decision gave order and little peace to her mind; she held her head high and marched on, to the little daily routines of the Wainwright household and her own life.

* * *

Lady Georgiana was undeniably shy, but she knew her place in the highest circles of society and didn't shirk from her duties. She attended social events, more often than not related to music, called often on her husband's relatives and peers, and kept active correspondence with her relations who didn't live in town. In all, Lady Georgiana wasn't a person given to idleness, and several engagements and responsibilities monopolised her time in the following days to the unexpected revelations concerning Miss Bennet and prevented her from going to the park in her usual hours.

She didn't meet Miss Bennet until some weeks later and noticed at once the embarrassment of the other woman, who was subdued and stopped hesitatingly next to her usual bench in the park.

-"Miss Bennet, what a pleasure to see you today," she said amiably.

-"My Lady", Elizabeth replied and curtsied.

-"Miss Bennet, please," the other woman looked back at her with ill concealed surprise at her tone of plea, "I do know now the particulars of your situation and you probably know mine." She looked down at her hands, "I do enjoy your company and would loathe to part ways because of something you probably had no... that happened through no fault of yours."

Elizabeth sat on the offered spot on the bench next to Lady Georgiana, Mrs. Annesley had stood and now played with Josephine and her doll.

-"Except that it did. You're aware now that I had enough intelligence to avert the tragedy." She sighed but wondered if the young lady knew about her cruel rejection of her brother's marriage proposal. "I only watched like a spectator," and she shook her head.

-"With just a letter containing private information?" The Lady frowned while her eyes bore at the governess' with a pointed gaze that resembled too much Mr. Darcy's. "I do not know why my brother chose to express himself with a letter and not in person, but I suppose that it is none of my concern. It speaks very highly of you that you didn't divulge its contents," and she raised her eyebrows.

-"Miss Bennet," she continued, "I will soon invite your mistress for tea at my home and I hope you would come too, with your charges. Do you think that will be possible?"

-"I believe so, my Lady. You will have to be specific in your invitation, that's all", Elizabeth replied quietly.

-"Please call me Georgiana, or Lady Georgiana if it pleases you better. Can I call you Miss Elizabeth?"

-"Of course," and the governess nodded with pleasure rather compliance.

* * *

Mr. Darcy hadn't dared to meet Elizabeth again before his sister did. He was absolutely sure that Georgiana would be able to gauge better Elizabeth's reaction and that she would reassure Elizabeth that there was no contempt held against her, much better than himself. This is why he waited, and hoped, and wished, and waited some more, until one evening, his sister mentioned that Elizabeth would be coming to the Cavendish home two days later.


	20. Chapter 20

_A/N: A heart shaped box of chocolates should be mailed to fia-blue in appreciation for the ice breaker contained in this chapter._

* * *

Mrs. Wainwright arranged once again her daughter's bonnet in the carriage taking them to the Cavendish's townhouse. She was delighted she was getting closer to Lady Cavendish, at least in the sense of seeing her more often, because everyone wanted to be near the young lady whose first season had redefined the word "fashion".

Mrs. Wainwright thought to herself that Lady Cavendish was a little childish and regarded with no little suspicion her attachment to her daughter Josephine. Still, she had yielded to the Lady's request of bringing the child for tea and included the governess, for two reasons: one was that she was aware that Miss Bennet's presence offered a sheen of respectability in spite of her obscure origins; and the other, even more obvious, was to take care of the child once she became bored.

The carriage stopped near the elegant house entrance; an outdoors servant helped them climb off and then leaded them to the main door. Another servant took them to the drawing room, where Lady Cavendish was already waiting. Mrs. Wainwright took notice of the punctuality of the host. The Lady welcomed them very politely and offered tea to everyone, governess and child included. Mrs. Wainwright didn't know how to understand the governess taking tea with them, but didn't say anything.

Once the child had finished her cup and pastries the Lady mentioned her own old dollhouse, which was kept upstairs, and invited her to play with it. The child and the governess stood and left the room, and then Lady Cavendish proceeded to show Mrs. Wainwright fashion figurines from Italy and France and swatches of luxurious fabrics from China and Turkey. A servant brought more tea and time flew by. Mrs. Wainwright was shocked when a servant informed her that her daughter and governess were ready to leave and waiting in the hallway and realised three hours had passed by.

In the ride back to their home and barely paying attention to the incessant and excited chatter of Josephine about the dollhouse, she still couldn't decide whether she liked Lady Cavendish or not.

* * *

The dollhouse was a perfect scale model of Pemberley, and indeed as impressive as the original. The room where it was located had other toys and books, but given that the Cavendish child was still a toddler Elizabeth supposed he wasn't allowed to play there yet.

The playroom had an open door connecting it to the nursery, where Mrs. Annesley sat reading a book. When the maid showed them in she stood and came over; the toddler was asleep in his bed and she would love to show Josephine all the little details of the dollhouse. They were entranced for a few minutes with the little pieces, when Mrs. Annesley stood up and offered Elizabeth to rest on the nursery sofa or perhaps read a book.

Elizabeth pondered it for a moment and preferred the book. Mrs. Annesley directed her to the upstairs library, a room with a door around the corner of the hallway, and went back to the dollhouse. Elizabeth stood before the door, barely ajar, and a memory of Longbourn's library leapt unbidden to her mind. Sighing softly she opened the door and entered the light flooded room.

* * *

Mr. Darcy had known Elizabeth would likely come that day but he thought it would be crass of him to meet her there, to impose himself to her in such manner. However his sister had, for lack of a better word, ensnared him with plans of dubious necessity of importance after lunch and he hadn't had the presence of mind to leave in time. So he was still there, hiding out in the upstairs library of his sister's house, until Elizabeth had left.

He didn't hear her enter and realised a bit too late. Her dark eyes, wide open, and her flushed cheeks betrayed far too much discomfort for him to find the right words in his mind quickly. She began to retreat as if she were an undesirable intruder and he promised himself he would exchange at least two words before she left.

-"Miss Elizabeth, good afternoon," he greeted her formally.

-"Mr. Darcy," she curtsied. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," she added meekly.

-"Oh, it's no interruption. I... I'm afraid I haven't seen the little soldier around here today," he said, and that little playful smile he loved danced in the corners of her lips.

-"The little soldier stayed home but his sister is playing with a dollhouse that reminds me of Pemberley," she said quietly but the smile was now in her eyes too.

-"How do you know what Pemberley looks like, Miss Elizabeth?" he asked with genuine curiosity.

She replied with complete honesty.

-"I once visited Derbyshire with my aunt and uncle and toured the house. My aunt, she is from Lambton," she added a bit nervously. What would Mr. Darcy care about her lowly relations?

-"Oh," he said simply. "Did you like it?" he asked then.

-"Lambton?" she asked puzzled but then realised about her mistake. "Oh, Pemberley," and they pronounced that very name at the same time, and he would feel from then on that it contained magic. "Yes, it is... very... probably the most beautiful place I've ever been to", she said with sincerity, but then felt embarrassed. "The dollhouse does it justice," she nodded while attempting to change the subject.

-"It was commissioned for Georgiana," he said simply. "Miss Elizabeth, I heard about your family's current hardships in Kent, from Mrs. Collins. I am sorry," that was all he wanted to say and he wished his eyes conveyed half as much as he was feeling.

-"Thank you," she said quietly looking down, but then her gaze reached up to his face and he felt as if he was being bared. "I owe you an apology for blaming you for Mr. Wickham's... lies. He was a nefarious character and I should have listened to you," she had moved to near the window and was looking out as she spoke, but her eyes were fixed on something very far away.

He simply nodded.

-"But what is done is done," she said suddenly and turning to face him. "There's no point in crying over spilled milk, is there?" she added with energy.

-"No, there isn't," he agreed. "I will soon visit Kent and I will probably have tea with Mrs. Collins," she frowned in perplexity. "I would not mind carrying a small thing for her, like a letter," and Elizabeth's eyes dilated with the realisation of the nature of his offer. "From my aunt's latest communication I understand Mrs. Collins is near her third confinement, if it helps," and the ghost of a very shy smile graced his noble features. "You can hand your letter or parcel to Mrs. Annesley whenever you wish to," he finished.

Josephine's voice mingled with little Darcy's and the noise of the rattle. Elizabeth curtsied and left for the nursery, where she realised she had been barely missed. She took a last look to the dollhouse and took her charge downstairs. Time had flown: three hours had passed since their arrival and dinnertime was only three quarters of an hour away.


	21. Chapter 21

When Lydia's elopement became public, Charlotte had written Elizabeth that Mr. Collins and Lady Catherine insisted that they should cut their friendship but assured her that she had no intentions to follow suit. They kept in touch through regular letters but they were cut abruptly. Although she didn't know how or why, Elizabeth supposed the ban had been enforced and regretted it sorely.

Elizabeth went to bed late that night. After all her duties had been completed she had sat down with paper, pens and a candle, and had written her first letter to her dear friend in a long time.

"_It is by a strange means that this letter reaches you, my dear Charlotte, and I ignore how or when I'll be able to write to you again. I hope your things are going well and your children are in good health. I think of you, often, and I miss you, my dear Charlotte. My sister's folly made me a fallen woman, and I accept my share of responsibility, but I am your friend and I hope I can still call you so._"

Such were the contents of her letter, though in many more words. She didn't say much about herself, less about Jane and nothing at all about Lydia. While she knew it wasn't honourable or respectable, she wondered for a moment or two whether it was going to be read by third parties. Mr. Collins, certainly, but also, perhaps, Mr. Darcy.

* * *

-"Miss Josephine, Miss Bennet, good morning," Mr. Darcy tipped his hat while crossing them on the street stall where they had stopped to buy a biscuit.

Both females curtsied, one of them feeling very important and the other a little flushed.

-"Mr. Darcy, would you like a piece of my biscuit?" Josephine offered.

-"You're very generous, Miss, but I do not want to spoil my appetite for lunch. Lady Georgiana would be very upset if I didn't finish my soup," he replied. "Do you have one for your brother? No? Here's a penny, go get him one."

Josephine obeyed and took the coin in her little hand, and went up to the fat woman selling the biscuits for a second helping.

-"I have not received your letter," he said quietly and not looking at Elizabeth. "Perhaps I should not wait for it?" and his eyes roamed about her face pausing just for a second on her mouth before going off and down to his cane.

-"I am not quite sure it is... that Mrs. Collins still counts me among her acquaintances," Elizabeth replied hardly above a whisper.

Mr. Darcy arched an eyebrow but the gesture was quite concealed under the brim of his hat and only for Elizabeth to see.

-"I am sure she does. She speaks of you as her friend," and Mr. Darcy nodded but looked to Josephine, who was now back with two more biscuits. "Do not eat them on your own or you will be ill," he admonished the little girl.

-"Thank you, Mr. Darcy," Josephine said dutifuly. "I will not eat this one but give it to Edward."

-"Goodbye, Miss Josephine," he bowed slightly, "Miss Elizabeth", he added looking at her straight in the eye for the first time during that morning.

-"Goodbye Mr. Darcy", they curtsied but he was already gone.

* * *

Mrs. Collins had heard her husband mentioning excitedly that Mr. Darcy would soon come to Rosings, and wondered what was so remarkable about a yearly visit. Maybe it was that her husband was bored, she mused, but she wasn't interested in delving any deeper in what caused his moods to soar.

Mrs. Collins rubbed her abdomen swollen with her third child, expected to be born in midsummer, and grabbed the basked with the meal for the chickens on her way out. Her children, two boys, were playing in the garden with the nursemaid and she could hear their shrieks of glee. Her husband was away, visiting some of his parishioners.

A tall gentleman stopped by and she recognised Mr. Darcy at once, and as it was expected of her, she invited him in for tea. Mr. Darcy accepted, and a little later they were seating in her small parlour before the steaming teapot and cups.

-"I am glad to see you in good health and find the parsonage in such good shape," Mr. Darcy began as usual.

This time Mrs. Collins wasn't quite sure which was the purpose of Mr. Darcy's visit.

-"Thank you, Mr. Darcy. You seem in good health yourself too," she replied quietly.

-"Lady Georgiana heard you excel at hosting unanounced guests for tea, and sends you this tea case," he said as he handed her a mahogany box carved in the Chinese style.

Mrs. Collins had already received a few very pretty things from Lady Catherine, but this one was also useful and valuable.

-"Oh," she couldn't hide her surprise. "It's beautiful, Mr. Darcy. Oh, I shall write and thank Lady Georgiana for this gift", and her smile lit up her eyes.

Mr. Darcy thought Mrs. Collins had described herself appropriately when she had used the word "plain", but now he also thought she had a certain charm. "It's because she's Elizabeth's friend", he suddenly thought, and it made sense.

-"You may want to write two replies, then," he said handing her Elizabeth's letter. "I will be glad to carry both with me next week when I return to town."

Mrs. Collins brow furrowed with this addition but the moment she saw her own name in a familiar handwriting her eyebrows shot up and her eyes asked a mute question, one she wouldn't formulate and he wouldn't reply other than by looking bored and not blinking, and then, most likely to his dismay, a tiny grin slowly stretched her lips.

Mr. Darcy knew that Mrs. Collins was thinking that only Elizabeth Bennet would make him call on to the Hunsford parsonage, and he admitted to himself that she was right. But being in Mrs. Collins' society was no punishment, he had discovered, and he took pleasure in the most enjoyable thing there was in visiting his aunt.


	22. Chapter 22

-"Are you alright Miss?", asked Mrs. Annesley. "Have you caught a cold?"

Elizabeth knew her nose was red and her eyes swollen, and appreciated Mrs. Annesley's opening for a white lie. She nodded, but at the calm and understanding face of her companion her need for sympathy overrode her need for privacy.

-"My youngest sister died yesterday, Mrs. Annesley," she said and pulled her handkerchief from her reticule. Edward and Josephine were playing quietly with young Darcy, sensitive and respectful of their governess' grief in spite of their tender age.

-"Oh dear, please accept my condolences," replied the older lady quietly not looking at Elizabeth. Lady Georgiana had stayed home, indisposed, but as Elizabeth also enjoyed Mrs. Annesley's company they had stopped at their accustomed spot.

-"Thank you, Mrs. Annesley." And just then like an overflown brook which takes its own new course, she went on talking. "She was very ill, had been ill for some years. Her baby was born too soon because of it, so sad, so sad," Elizabeth sobbed quietly into her handkerchief. "My sister's dying wish was to be buried in Meryton, in Hertfordshire, where we're originally from and our mother still lives, but I cannot afford it. My oldest sister, also a governess, and with our uncle who lives in town, we have tried to join our savings but the expense of moving a coffin is too large," more tears ran down Elizabeth's cheeks. "The funeral and burial will be carried out soon and I hope my mother can come down for it, but I am not sure that will happen."

The older woman was silent.

-"I spoke to Mrs. Wainwright but moving a coffin is too much and... I undestand it's too much money to lend the governess." Elizabeth pursed her lips and frowned, her face scrunching in the effort to not to cry. "I understand it," she finished shaking her head and drying her eyes.

Both women silently looked at the children play for several minutes.

-"Please do not say anything of this to Lady Georgiana," Elizabeth said suddenly and turning her face to her companion. "I believe she might be with child, but even if it's not the case I do not want to worry her with my concerns. There is nothing she can do," at Mrs. Annesley pointed gaze she corrected, "no, I do not want to ask her for money, please Mrs. Annesley, I beg you, don't tell her anything!"

-"Don't worry, Miss Bennet. Your secret is safe with me," Mrs. Annesley assured her.

* * *

Fifteen years prior, when he had comissioned the dollhouse for Georgiana, little had Mr. Darcy imagined he would be so grateful for it one day. Josephine Wainwright adored it and asked her mother to bring her to the Cavendish home as often as she could, and Georgiana liked to oblige the young miss. Mrs. Wainwright not always came herself but Elizabeth did. Often Georgiana, Mrs. Annesley, Josephine and Elizabeth would spend the afternoon drinking tea in tiny porcelain cups (also a childhood toy of Georgiana's), discussing details about the dollhouse or Pemberley itself, and enjoying themselves in a very relaxed fashion.

Sometimes, though not always, Elizabeth would ask to go to the library and had a moment to herself. And sometimes, though not always, Mr. Darcy would also be there. And least often of all, but also known to happen, Colonel Fitzwilliam would join the ladies and their tiny tea, and would tell fantastic stories of the places he had visited with the Army. Elizabeth suspected much of it was not exactly true, but the Colonel had a gift for story telling and Josephine was very fond of him.

As soon as the opportunity had presented itself, Mr. Darcy handed Elizabeth Mrs. Collins' letter in the upstairs library and left her alone so she could read it in private, not returning to the room for the rest of the afternoon. Once he offered her a cup of tea, but she declined. They wouldn't talk much; mostly, Mr. Darcy would suggest short readings for Elizabeth and they would sit, each on one of the very cosy armchairs with their books, and being silent for long stretches of time.

In spite of the august company, Elizabeth sometimes would simply rest with her head against the tall back of the chair and the book on her lap. Mr. Darcy would not force a conversation, she had realised, and a companionable silence would befell their meetings.

She was very careful not to fall asleep and she was gratified by the knowledge that she had never nodded off there. She was mistaken, however, though Mr. Darcy would never rectify her inaccuracy. Her company stirred his breast in ways he did not want to dissect; and regardless, he knew not how to extract himself from the bewitching sight of her eyelids fluttering and her lips sighing in unspoken dreams.

* * *

Mrs. Annesley considered very seriously her interview with Miss Bennet. She too suspected her mistress might be pregnant again, and believed it a good endeavour to spare her from other people's predicaments. However she was aware that the death of a person was a hardly concealable fact, and Lady Georgiana would not appreciate being left out once she heard about it. She pondered her loyalties and promises, and that evening found a compromise that seemed very fitting.

Mr. Darcy had been invited by Lord Cavendish and Georgiana to a musical soirée and was at their upstairs library, by far his favourite room in that house, waiting while they got ready and the Colonel arrived so they could leave together. He was perusing Lord Cavendish's extraordinary new treatise on exotic plants when a knock on the door distracted him. Mrs. Annesley's head peeped through the barely open doorway and he let her in.

-"Master Darcy, there's something about which I would like to know your mind," said Mrs. Annesley and went on at his sign of acquiescence. "Today I went to the park without Lady Georgiana and met Miss Bennet there. She was quite saddened by the death of a young sister," Mr. Darcy's countenance didn't register any change. "Was this the sister who...?" She didn't finish the question but he nodded in assent. "Her final wish was to be buried in their home town in Hertfordshire. Miss Bennet's relatives cannot afford such expense and this seemed to upset her particularly," Mrs. Annesley voice was hardly above a whisper. "She believes Lady Georgiana's condition to be delicate and does not want her to know about this... predicament. However, it is my feeling that Lady Georgiana will hear about it sooner or later and will be upset if she learns it was kept from her."

Mr. Darcy was pensive for a moment.

-"Thank you for this intelligence, Mrs. Annesley. I agree you should tell Lady Georgiana, but please do not mention this conversation. Let her think it's the death what upsets Miss Bennet the more, if you can," and Mr. Darcy's gaze was imperative here. "Do not hide information from my sister, Mrs. Annesley, but be conscious of her moods and dispositions."

Lord Cavendish's and the Colonel's voices were heard from downstairs.

-"I will leave now. Please do as you see fit, and thank you for seeking my advice," finished Mr. Darcy. "I bid you good night."

-"Good night, Mr. Darcy," replied Georgiana's former governess with a curtsey.


	23. Chapter 23

It was already mid May when Mrs. Swanson and Mrs. Wainwright had joined their efforts to organise a picnic day under the shady grooves of Vauxhall, and had made sure that their guests had a marked taste for the wilderness, or at least, could tolerate the mosquitoes without complaining much. Mr. Darcy and his sister, Lady Georgiana, were natural additions to a list that boasted about five dozen guests, as well as many children and servants, and they looked forwards this social event with more enthusiasm that was their want.

Mr. Darcy knew that Elizabeth would in all likelihood be present, and wondered if he would be able to see again the stubborn girl who had walked three miles across muddy fields to take care of her sister. He still remembered her arrival to Netherfield quite clearly as if it had happened only yesterday; her appearance had been a gush of fresh air that he had clearly underestimated. What he had first thought to be only a breeze had had the force of a hurricane, uprooting and upsetting everything in its way, from Miss Bingley's stilted manners to his own stiff notions of self worth. Mr. Darcy smiled to himself at the memory of him losing the fight against himself and falling, hopelessly and helplessly, under her spell.

The good thing about picnics, he thought as he made a beeline to where she was standing, was that they seemed to be structured under looser notions of who could speak to whom and in which order, and all those rules he knew by heart, the rules according to which he had been shaped and raised and he had probably never questioned, were a little less rigid in occasions such as this. She was not on her own, she seldom was, he noticed during different times of the day, there was always a child, or a guest, or even a servant who wanted her for something which more often than not, he couldn't help noticing, had to do with laughing.

His own little time with her was only too short to make anything out of it. In spite of the warm and sunny weather he thought she was a little pale and subdued, and he dared to ask her about the dark circles under her eyes. Sparing no thought to pretenses of any kind she admitted that times were hard, and her smile was so sad and resigned that arouse in him the strange and barely repressible urge to touch her, to offer whatever there was in himself that could comfort her.

But this was not the place or the time, not in this picnic or in this lifetime, where he was master of Pemberley and she was governess to some social climbers' children. He sighed and emptied his glass, suddenly hoping the day would be over and he could go back home.

His sister and cousin also talked to Elizabeth and declared her to be under the duress of grief, but expressed their belief in her ability to overcome it. His brother-in-law was mostly unconcerned. His nephew stretched his arms at him and he picked him up, glad to have something in his hands, the appearance of an occupation. Time dragged on until the picnic finally ended and all the guests were free to retreat.

* * *

Lady Georgiana's skill at the pianoforté was well known, and she was often invited to perform at very select meetings. She had a true appreciation of music and interpretation, and renowned musicians and composers delighted in her acquaintance and refined taste. She would never attend such soirées on her own - her shyness prevented her from entering a room full of strangers and play for them, so usually her husband would go with her, but sometimes her brother or cousin would comply and on rare occasions, even Mrs. Annesley.

About a week after the Vauxhall picnic the Russian ambassador's wife invited Lady Georgiana, and she asked her brother to accompany her. Mr. Darcy could not play any instrument but enjoyed his sister's performances and naturally yielded at once.

In the carriage to the ambassador's home Mr. Darcy let his gaze rest over his sister for a moment. In her first season he had been struck by the ease she would adopt some of the most fashion forward trends, selecting garments and accessories that complimented her figure perfectly in a very subtle manner. He hadn't known his sister had that flair or that innate sense of what to highlight from her own looks, and he was sure it wasn't born from vanity, but he appreciated it without words.

Georgiana was fanning herself with a silken purple fan that replicated some details of dress. She seemed lost in thought and oblivious to his survey, but that was far from the truth.

-"A most... extraordinary thing happened the other day," she began while the fan would make her curls swing rhythmically and her eyes were fixed on the window. "It came to my knowledge that Miss Bennet's sister passed away and wished to be interred in Hertfordshire, but there were no available funds to afford such wish. Given that it was in my power to provide the funds but not in my inclination to make Miss Bennet discomfited with the relative generosity of my gesture, I entrusted Mr. Robertson, our banker, with the mission of going to Miss Bennet's family's home in town and donate the money anonymously."

Mr. Darcy kept his eyes glued to the dimly lit streets and only uttered a non committal "Hm."

-"Mr. Robertson came back with the shocking news that the money for the fee had already been raised, actually provided by another... anonymous donor." Georgiana's wrist stopped suddenly. "You don't happen to know anything about it, do you?" she asked looking through the darkness of the carriage to where her brother was sitting.

-"Maybe it was the mistress of either Miss Bennet. If it becomes known that they pay for their employees' siblings' funerals they would be soon in financial distress," he replied affecting boredom. "We've arrived, allow me," he said to climb off the carriage first and help her descend.

Out of habit rather than regard for rank he walked half a step behind to Lady Georgiana, but he could hear clearly when she started walking and muttered,

-"Most extraordinary, indeed."


	24. Chapter 24

The month of June felt closer at every hour, with longer evenings and lighter days. Mr. Darcy, never one to improvise, was already planning his removal to Pemberley for the next months and was enjoying much of his days in the company of his sister, whom he wouldn't see for months.

Georgiana was with child again and in excellent mood, but that made any plans of her visiting Pemberley quite distant. Her womb was still flat but he noticed the femininity of her figure accentuated and an unusual brilliancy in her complexion. Georgiana looked very much alive and happy, Mr. Darcy concluded, and for a fleeting moment his mind attempted to imagine Elizabeth... No, it was pointless, not to mention improper.

Speaking of Elizabeth, he had heard the Wainwrights would spend the summer in Brighton and he wondered whether she would go with them or stay in town with her family. Perhaps she would go to Hertfordshire? What would Jane do? He made a mental note to ask her if they spoke again and hoped he could say goodbye, just like he had the previous year.

* * *

He did meet Elizabeth shortly after such thoughts entered his mind, that very afternoon actually, in the same fashion he had seen her more often lately, that is, in the upstairs library of the Cavendish home. The subject of holiday resorts wasn't covered, however.

Standing by the library window over the house's main entrance he saw the Wainwright's carriage stop and a manservant helping the ladies descend. Mrs. Wainwright and Josephine headed for the door right then, but he thought Elizabeth exchanged some more words with the servant. He lost sight of them but heard the main door, and then their hushed voices downstairs. Only a few minutes later Josephine's excited footsteps resonated over the wooden steps of the stairs and headed for the playroom where the dollhouse was kept, and then, straining a little his ears, he heard Elizabeth's much lighter steps following the child.

He experienced an unusual anticipation, almost a yearning for her presence, and his eyes went to the room's door imploringly. As if hearing his mute plea, the door opened and Elizabeth entered the library.

-"Miss Elizabeth, good afternoon," he said and bowed.

-"Mr. Darcy," she replied and curtsied, but didn't sit or approached the bookshelves as she normally did. No, she stood there, not looking up, and he thought she seemed nervous or upset.

-"Is everything alright?" he asked trying to supress the sudden chill that ran down his spine.

-"Mr. Darcy," she looked up and her voice was strained, "I have received a marriage proposal from Mr. Wainwright's head driver, Mr. Hudson," she said, and she didn't look happy.

-"Oh," no, she didn't look happy at all. "Are congratulations in order?" he asked just in case. She shook her head.

-"No, I turned him down," she said but her voice was still charged with anguish.

-"Something in which you have a long and illustrious career, I hear," he tilted his head and smiled at her goodnaturedly, because he harboured no grudges against her and wanted her to know it.

Elizabeth's eyes flashed and flooded, and to his complete horror, she broke crying.

-"Mr. Darcy, Mr. Hudson threatened me to tell everyone that I am your mistress, that I turned him down because I receive money from you in exchange of favours," Elizabeth's voice was shrill and her fists were clenched. "I cannot, my reputation and Jane's can't take another blow," she paused a moment attempting to hold herself up with only a little success. Mr. Darcy was petrifyied.

-"Mr. Darcy, I regret the cruelty of my words when I turned you down, they were ill founded and completely undeserved and I hope you'll forgive me one day," she continued quickly among tears, "and I know I am still cruel to you now," she pulled out a folded sheet of paper from her reticule, "but I must ask you to stay away from me."

Mr. Darcy was literally speechless. He had never seen anyone so agitated and felt the weight of the injustice sorely, but also understood her perfectly.

-"I know you must be angry at me, Mr. Darcy, and I must tell you that I'm doing this in spite of enjoying our acquaintance very much," she stretched out her hand with the paper, "but I have too much to lose. I am returning the letter you gave me that day, at Rosings' grounds. I should have destroyed it, but never had the heart to do it," he took the letter, his own letter, in his hands. She let her own hand fall to her side.

-"Please, Mr. Darcy" her lovely face reflected the turmoil of her soul, "I beg you, please stay away from me!" She then turned, "my mistress must be looking for me, I must leave now."

He knew he only had a moment and did what he thought it would be best. He held Elizabeth's shoulders and looking into her eyes he said, clearly,

-"Fear not, Lizzy. I will do as you bid."


	25. Chapter 25

Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Master of Pemberley and close relative to influential peers of the realm, was not daunted by opposition. He was not afraid of having ennemies, he was not intimidated by conflict. He was what he was, and there was no more to say about it.

No, what he loathed were contradictions, paradoxes, negations in proximity. Like hearing the words he had longed to hear for so long, that Lizzy had read the letter and believed him, that she actually liked being with him, and in the same breath the one he dreaded the most, that she didn't want to see him again.

He couldn't believe that a lowly coach driver had more power than himself in terms of intimidating her, he couldn't make peace with a false notion - that one of him having taken her as a mistress, was even stronger than a real fact - that he cared too much about her to do her any harm.

He hated assertions that were constructed by their own negations, things that could not be. Like wanting to make Elizabeth Bennet happy and deny himself the pleasure of her company.

He didn't know why he had yielded to her heartbreaking request, but then again, he would have done anything she would ever request from him. Why not this then? It was a conundrum without a solution, a Gordian knot of sorts.

In spite of the wonderful spring weather, and for reasons unknown to everyone in his acquaintance, Mr. Darcy spent the rest of the week scowling and more taciturn than ever.


	26. Chapter 26

The enormous success of the picnic in Vauxhall spurred a string of open air activities in which the hosts attempted to outdo each other in the quality and variety of attractions. Mrs. Hiram B. Hamilton decided to cap the season with a lunch at one of the riverside bank parks, and commissioned her personal architect to build a temporary structure to allow more comfort for her guests.

It was a wooden structure that reminded everyone in the know of the stage of the exquisite new theatre in town, consisting of a large solid platform that went from the sloping ground to over the singing current, and had a rail that allowed guests to appreciate the rivulets of water circling around its stilts. It also contained shaded sections much like tents, which would protect the guests from sun or rain, and a risen section for the band of music to play.

The day was splendid. The sun shone and there was nary a cloud in the blue skies, but a cool breeze gave some respite shushing softly from the trees' foliage. The guests arrived slowly but surely; the Wainwrights came with their children, nursemaid and governess; the Swansons arrived only a few minutes later and all the cousins mingled in raucuous cheefulness. Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived in the company of Miss Anabelle Hancock, and Lord and Lady Cavendish came with their young boy and Mrs. Annesley. The band started to play. A young girl dressed in white, probably representing spring, went up to every guest offering fresh flowers in all colours. Servants offered fruit and glasses with drinks. Chatter and polite laughter were soon heard everywhere.

Elizabeth hadn't heard from Mr. Hudson's threats again. She had restrained him by saying that Mr. Darcy wouldn't enjoy being gossiped about by a servant, and on top of that of just lies, and it had seemed to quiet him. It was a very awkward situation and she was planning on looking for a new position, but for now she would simply enjoy the day. She saw another plainly dress young woman nearby, probably another servant, and on a second look she recognised Bessy Williams, Lydia's friend from the boarding house.

Carrying an apple in her hand she approached the other woman, glad to have someone to talk to. The Markhams, Jane's family, had not been invited and she didn't want to approach Lady Georgiana either. Bessy took a moment to recognise her and chattered so happily that Elizabeth suspected she had had some wine.

-"I'm happy I have a new job, you know?", said Bessy.

-"I wasn't aware that you were looking for one," Elizabeth replied politely. "But, congratulations. Is it a good position?"

-"Yes, yes, but not as well paid as the one before. That Mr. Darcy pays well, doesn't he? Too bad they don't need a housemaid where he lives," Bessy continued.

-"You worked for Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth was puzzled.

-"Yes, yes, that poor girl I looked after, it was Mr. Darcy who hired me to do so. She was very fun, though," she added thoughtfully. "And then, when she died, Mr. Darcy also paid for the burial in Yorkshire."

-"Hertfordshire," Elizabeth corrected her, her voice quiet from shock.

-"Oh, was it? You knew her too?", the other one frowned. "Oh, you are..." her eyes bulged at the recognition of her companion and gaped. "Gracious me! I wasn't supposed to say anything... oh, oh, look who's there!" she said looking at a handsome servant carrying a tray. "Benny, Benny, did you miss me?"

Elizabeth didn't regret losing her conversation partner and would have liked to excuse herself on a less and less imaginary headache. It was not to happen, though. Josephine came up to her with a little piece of cake, took her by the hand and they walked to the edge of the platform to feed the fish. Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was playing with Edward with wooden swords, greeted her and they joined them for the prospect of fish feeding.

The Colonel seemed to perceive that Elizabeth was upset or he simply liked children much, and played with both Wainwright siblings while she simply stood, her mind numbed by the revelations. Mr. Darcy had known of Lydia, he had taken care of her, had been the facilitating means of her dying wish? And she had told him to stay away? Would she never stop hurting him?

Elizabeth looked up and found Mr. Darcy's eyes on her. He was standing about forty yards away, alone. Neither moved, but he seemed to read the surprise in her eyes and she thought he acknowledged it all with a small smile. She lowered her face and then a loud crack was heard. The platform had not been designed to support the weight of so many people and one of the supporting beams gave way, making the surface to slice in two. The part near the water tilted and Elizabeth, Josephine, Edward, Colonel Fitzwilliam and two dozen more people slided, tumbled and fell into the cool stream.

* * *

If Mr. Darcy stood one moment or one hour, he never knew. All rational thought deserted him and he acted on instinct rather than anything else. Propriety, fear, love. He did not know.

* * *

The cold water almost made him wince and he was surprised by the strength of the current. Its noise pounding on his ears was far more clear than the blurred shrieks of people up there, in safe ground. His head went up and he turned round and round, searching for her among the debris and broken flowers.

-"Mr. Darcy! Mr. Darcy!" it was Lizzy calling him. He swam towards her, never losing sight of her.

-"Mr. Darcy, take Josephine with you. Take her, now!" she commanded and he couldn't refuse.

He towed the almost unconscious little girl to the edge of the water, but when he turned to go back for Lizzy, she was gone.

* * *

Mr. Darcy was hauled from the water much against his will. Someone, probably Colonel Fitzwilliam, took him forcibly to his carriage and they both left, soaked to the bone as they were, for Darcy's home. But Georgiana saw him and understood his plea, and he waited for hours and hours until later, when Georgiana went to his house with whatever news there were to learn.


	27. Chapter 27

It was well after sunset when Lady Georgiana was shown to Mr. Darcy's study. She dreaded her brother's reaction to her less than auspicious news; she was aware that there was too much she didn't know to decide wisely what to deliver and, particularly, how.

Mr. Darcy had been taken home by his equally sodden cousin and in spite of his staff's efforts to prepare a hot bath in haste, he had spent about three quarters of an hour wet and cold. After Mr. Darcy's limbs had regained some warmth and his teeth stopped clattering, Colonel Fitzwilliam had called a doctor and had forced him to wait and follow the physician's directions.

From his examination Dr. Simmons had observed a higher likelihood of a nervous breakdown than a cold, and had told it so to the Colonel while providing him with generous doses of laudanum. The patient had refused them roundly before being able to hear his sister's news and the Colonel, in turn, had decided to station himself by the patient's side.

By the time Georgiana arrived, though, he had been thrown out from the Darcy house with threats of estrangement and the revealing of private intelligence concerning some of the Colonel's matters. And loud yelling. The Colonel waited on the street, however, to alert Georgiana of Mr. Darcy's altered state of mind.

* * *

In appearances Mr. Darcy was his normal self. Only a very slight shaking of his writing hand and an unusual cough revealed turmoil under the surface, but he stood up when his sister entered the room and offered her a chair in true concern for her state.

-"Don't worry about me," she said. "How are you feeling?" she knew how silly the question sounded but was more than a formality.

-"I'm well. Did... is everybody... from the water?" his sentence came out disjointed.

-"Thirty people were rescued and are out of danger," she began. "Josephine and Edward Wainwright are well. Two people have died, the elderly Mrs. Hamilton and a servant, one Jack Higgins. Three people are missing, Elizabeth Bennet among them." Georgiana attempted to soften the blow with the tone of her voice, but the facts were those.

Her brother's face didn't register any change.

-"Fitzwilliam, you know there are very little chances they're found alive, don't you?" she said softly. "Miss Bennet's soaked dress must have been too heavy for her to float," she finished with a whisper.

He simply nodded.

-"I'm sorry," she stood up ready to leave, but her brother looked up at her and she simply couldn't. His face was contorted in a very strange grimace and his eyes glimmered beneath his eyelashes; when the moisture slid down his cheeks she realised he was crying.

-"She was very important to you, wasn't she?" she said quietly to the hand scrubbing the beloved face, as she sat back.

-"She was everything," his voice came out like a smack on a broken wooden box. She frowned very slightly and breathed deeply. "I fought it off, believe me, but I lost. More than once," he added.

-"Tell me all about it," replied Georgiana, not really expecting him to reply fully or coherently. Her brother, always so private, even to herself, was allowed his secrets.

-"You already know most of it," he still spoke with his face down. "I first met her when Bingley leased Netherfield, all those years ago. Caroline was... I knew Caroline was a good match for me and I was pondering it, but then Elizabeth appeared and everyone was shown in their true colours. I don't know how she managed it, but she had that gift." He let out a breath loudly and raised his face, to continue a story he had never told before. "Caroline became the most uncivil creature, repellent almost," he shook his head, "her jealousy of Elizabeth made her so. I couldn't pay Caroline any serious thought after seeing that."

He stood up and propped his elbow on the mantelpiece. Georgiana followed him with her eyes.

-"You know I met Elizabeth in Rosings a few months later. You know she accused me of Wickham's lies, which was wrong of her, of course. But she also laid to my charge other accusations far more accurate." Mr. Darcy's eyes went to the window and to the moonless night sky, dark and ominous. "One was that I did all in my power to separate Bingley from Elizabeth's sister, Jane."

-"Bingley's Jane is Elizabeth Bennet's sister?" Georgiana asked in astonishment.

His brother nodded and frowned inquisitively, to which she elaborated.

-"A heavily imbibed Charles Bingley once spent about fifteen minutes declaiming an elegy to Jane to the parlour's silver tea set... before he got married, I probably seem to remember" she clarified slowly. "But... Why?"

-"The Bennet family... well, they were a little... uncouth." He sighed this last word. "They always seemed set on behaving with a want of propriety, Georgiana, that would have shocked you," Mr. Darcy smiled sadly, mostly to the memories than anything from the present. "Jane belonged to that family too, but she was the only other member who didn't... elicit... any qualms from me, society wise. But I didn't believe she was sincerely in love with Bingley and thought it would be a disadvantageous marriage for our friend."

Mr. Darcy paused of a few moments, his lips pursed in deep thought. Georgiana didn't say anything.

-"The extent to which I misjudged the eldest Miss Bennet became apparent only recently," he continued quietly but his voice had a strained note, "and I will regret it to the last of my days. She was, indeed, very much in love with Bingley and was heartbroken when he left. She also was the only one not to believe Wickham's lies and to give me the benefit of the doubt, and I repaid her kindness in the worst possible manner. My stupidity knows no limits," he concluded and paused because the lump in his throat was barely letting him breathe.

Georgiana would have remarked that surely he had meant well, but she knew her brother enough to omit the comment.

-"I didn't meet Elizabeth again until quite recently, only a little before your acquaintance became known to me." He looked at his hands, now resting on the edge of one of the shelves. "Her youngest sister had eloped with Wickham and her father had died, their reputation and fortune in shreds."

-"Elizabeth has always been a lady to me. She has it in her", replied Georgiana. "Had it," corrected. "I'm sorry," she wiped a tear with her handkerchief. "But if their father was a gentleman then they belong to the gentry. Nobody can take that away from them, not even scandal or impoverishment," Georgiana continued thoughtfully. "And it seems to me that the family that produced such apprehension in you doesn't exist anymore."

-"That's true," admitted her brother.

-"Elizabeth also pointed out my character faults," he spoke after a few minutes of silence. "Arrogance, conceit and selfish disdain of others' feelings," he recited while looking straight into his sister's consternated face, "to which I have to agree to a certain point. I was so taken by her charm that I believed her expecting my attentions," he said as he laced his fingers together before him.

-"Richard told you she made quick work of Aunt Catherine. She did the same with me, but in my pompousness I was oblivious to it. So I did the most foolish thing I could have ever done," he finished.

-"What was that?" Georgiana didn't believe anyone in their right mind would seriously dislike her brother.

-"I proposed marriage."

There was a stunned silence on Georgiana's part and a tired pause on Mr. Darcy's. She made a gesture as if she would say something but she didn't. She was truly speechless. Her lips formed the word "marriage" but no sound came off.

-"She turned me down on the grounds I've already exposed," he continued with a voice that sounded a little weaker than before. "I felt humilliated, of course, but for some reason I cannot fathom I have never truly regretted it," he reflected shaking his head very slowly.

Mr. Darcy then scratched his jaw absentmindedly.

-"That was the first time I lost Elizabeth, if it could be said that I ever had her. Then, only last week, she said someone had threatened her to spread the gossip that she was my mistress..."

-"Did you...?" Georgiana started.

-"No," he cutted her. "No, that would have been too demeaning. No," he repeated. "So she asked me to stay away from her, to which I agreed with only because I could never tell her no," his eyes bore into hers and she saw they glistened again. "And today I jumped into the water only for her but she asked me to save the girl instead," and he attempted to take the tears away with the heel of his hand but that cannot be done, "and now she's gone"

-"The only... puny consolation I have," he continued in a broken voice, "is that she was happier as a governess than with me. She told you as much."

Georgiana's brow furrowed.

-"That cannot be, she couldn't have been referring to you," she replied carefully, "unless you had married her best friend and never told anyone." She thought it well before speaking again. "I really don't know how she felt about you, Fitzwilliam, or your marriage proposal. She never let anything on."

Mr. Darcy didn't say anything to this. There wasn't, truly, anything else to say, and his head hurt horribly and his stomach churned with the little his cousin had forced him to eat. He felt confused and dizzy and wanted his sister to leave. She understood and complied. He left his study and went upstairs, to his bedchamber, without real purpose or desire of any kind.


	28. Chapter 28

Mr. Darcy entered his bedchamber and looked around. The curtains were drawn and he opened them to let the now overcast night sky inside. Everything on sight belonged to him and was located in its accustomed place; this familiarity, however, didn't offer him any comfort.

The night after Elizabeth had rejected his marriage proposal in Rosings, had been a long one. He was in shock and he was angry, and mortified, and undeniably, in love. His heart pounding, he had been pacing around his room arguing with his reflection on the mirror, finally attempting to make peace with her with a letter.

The night after Elizabeth had told him to keep his distance had been a long one, too. He had tossed and turned in his bed, shocked at the contradiction of his actions to his feelings, angry at being kept hostage by a servant with just a threat of gossip, and more than ever, in love. He had reread his letter, surprised that it started conveying anger but ended in a more generous spirit, both sides of himself he recognised easily.

The night after Elizabeth disappeared in the cold stream of the river, just felt as if the rest of his life was starting then. Before this night, it was a life where Elizabeth Bennet existed, somewhere, and he could meet her serendipitously; from tomorrow on, one with her gone. He wasn't angry or sad. He was hollow.

He had told Georgiana he had never had Elizabeth, yet he had lost her three times. But this last time something had been different. She had been looking at him from afar but unwavering, straight like an arrow to the heart. There was no fear in her eyes, no repulsion in her attitude; they hadn't been gentleman and governess, they had been man and woman. He couldn't get any nearer or exchange a word with her, and strangely, he had never felt closer.

The only thing standing between them had been their ranks, their social stature. The rules of who could talk to whom and in which order that had shaped him and that he had never questioned, and which now were the only solid thing remaining in his life.

He didn't know why he had never questioned them, questioned why the approval of one's peers was more important than pursuing happiness by marrying for love, but this was a good time as any. He wondered why, if he had only a handful of friends, and not all belonged to the gentility as himself, he had had such qualms against Elizabeth. It was a good question why he cared about London's society when the only London's socialite whose opinion mattered to him was Georgiana, and she was more concerned about his well being than anything else. He wondered why, when he always took responsibility for his actions and their consequences, he had agreed on Elizabeth's fallen status for something he was more accountable for than herself. He wondered why he had been so reluctant, so afraid actually, to tell her that he still loved her, if he knew for a fact that she wouldn't play with his feelings and would honour her acceptance or rejection.

He didn't know why, of course, but he began to think that he had been wrong, just then. The only real thing in his life had not been, were not any those rules or even his own gentle rank, it had been Elizabeth and his love for her. It was a good question why one is graced with a heart capable of loving and the meeting the one person who could (and did) inflame such heart to previously unsuspected extents, why one is given youth and strength, if at the slightest aggravation one decides to back off on the excuse of placing importance in idle people's gossip.

What was all that about? What was being a wealthy aristocrat, what was being powerful and influential, if he could not use that power to be happy? Why couldn't he have used his influence to just woo Elizabeth, or simply forget about all his Darcy name that sounded of Lady Catherine's gabble and babble, and just be himself?

Himself... but who was himself? Mr. Darcy caught a reflection of himself in the mirror and jumped. He did not recognise the man with the bulging eyes and disheveled hair in a monogrammed night gown. He thought he looked like an idiot, he could not believe he had any consequence in the world at all. The man in the mirror looked fixedly back, and he was overwhelmed by a passion that momentarily filled the void of love. He hated.

And in his state of complete abhorrence he re-examined his life. Everything was loath inducing: everything that had been his source of pride, like the cold works of art and library of Pemberley, to his dealings of his businesses and his social calendar. The people he socialised with, everyone, was lacking. Even Georgiana's company was lacking, because she had her own family and she didn't need him as she used to, and besides, there were things she could never give him. Things Elizabeth could have given him had he dared to ask her to stay, to promise he would protect her and honour her, instead of agreeing on turning a cold shoulder on her. Soon he would be old and a burden to his dear sister, and what would he have then? Rank? Rules?

Mr. Darcy's heart was beating frantically. He felt nauseous. His very world was collapsing and he was the one to hold the hammer that knocked the walls down. He wondered if he should commit suicide, if this what suicides think right before they jump off the cliffs, or drink the poison or pull the trigger. His mind went to the wooden platform and felt it had been his life, smooth and safe only in appearances, but then it got overloaded and it cracked and the safe part was in the past, where he couldn't go anymore, and he was in the half that tilted to the cold and dangerous waters.

If that was the case, then he understood. He was sliding down, no rail or post or anything to hold onto, irreversibly, unavoidably right into the dark waters of the thereafter. He couldn't hold onto anything, because all that was left after Elizabeth was gone, was nothing but a farce.

He actually felt the chill gaining his body; his stomach clenched, his fists tightened, his eyes blinked attempting to see into the darkness of the room, long after the candle was exhausted. He was shivering. He felt the taste of iron in his mouth, the taste of blood. Had he hit himself?

The grey skies started to light, dawn was less than an hour away. The man in the mirror, the one who had chosen a farce to himself, was still sitting in his night gown with the same vacant expression in his face. Mr. Darcy hated him so he grabbed an inkwell and threw it at him, with the last energy of his dying old self. The mirror shattered. Mr. Darcy felt inadequate.

Shortly afterwards someone knocked the door, a servant carrying a broom and a shovel and a concerned face. Mr. Darcy made an excuse. He got dressed, went down the stairs, opened the door and left his house.

He got lost while rambled his own street, and he felt so ashamed of himself that he returned home. The first day of the rest of his life had just begun.


	29. Chapter 29

Lady Georgiana Cavendish didn't sleep well that night. In spite of her brother being reserved and single, she had known he was capable of experiencing deep feelings and seeing him in such state of complete devastation broke her heart.

Miss Elizabeth Bennet could have been her sister. She was shocked, but the more she had thought about it the less surprised she was. She was charming and witty, with spirit and enough cheek to laugh at her brother, and what was more important, a genuinelly good person. She never gave herself airs, but Georgiana knew Elizabeth cared about the ones she loved and did things for them without expecting their thanks. In more than one regard Elizabeth had reminded her of Fitzwilliam.

Georgiana tried to be glad that her brother had chosen someone so worthy of his esteem, but couldn't help feeling devastated at the loss of such person. The morning was cloudy and dark, a stark contrast to the previous sunny day, and she wore a dark dress in respect for Elizabeth.

It was around ten in the morning when a housemaid came up to the upstairs library, where she and her husband were attending to their personal correspondence, to announce that Mrs. Wainwright had called on her and was waiting in the drawing room. Georgiana repressed the urge to say that she was indisposed, and went downstairs to greet her guest.

Mrs. Wainwright was standing near the fireplace and admired the little family portraits on the mantelpiece. When Lady Georgiana entered the room she spun around, awkwardly, and curtsied.

-"Lady Cavendish, I came to offer you my heartfelt appreciation for Mr. Darcy's and Colonel Fitzwilliam's heroic rescue of my children," she began, and Georgiana saw the concern and relief written in the other mother's face.

-"Mrs. Wainwright, I shall be delighted to pass on your message. How are Josephine and Edward doing?" she asked.

-"They didn't rest well, as they are still frightened by the experience," replied the other woman. "But they don't have any bodily harm," she finished with a nervous smile.

-"I am glad to hear that," Georgiana said quietly. "Have they... found Miss Bennet's body?" she asked as she looked for her handkerchief, readying herself for bad news.

-"Oh, Miss Bennet," the other woman said as if she had only a passing acquaintance with her. "Why, yes, I saw her, I spoke to her this morning," to Georgiana's frown she elaborated. "Oh, she swam" she added lightly, "and showed up late in the evening in a dreadful state. I gave her the day off" she added with a flick of her wrist.

-"Abigail, that is so..." Georgiana almost said "romantic" but didn't want to elaborate. "Generous" was also on the tip of her tongue but didn't made it to sounds, either.

The other woman misinterpreted the use of the first name and tried to earn the youngest woman's respect with a wrong strategy.

-"I know!", she cried. "So fastidious!" she said triumphally. "One does not want to have a governess and have to give her holidays at every turn, does one? Besides, you should have seen her dress. Six inches deep in mud!"

That rendered Georgiana speechless. In another life, where she wouldn't be Lady Cavendish and wouldn't be so shy, would know how to tell this woman of how rude and ill bred she was, but the memory of her Aunt Catherine (also a reputed shy in her youth) stopped her. She thought about the next sentence for a few moments before talking.

-"Where is she now?"

-"Oh, she went to her uncle's home in Gracechurch Street. Not a place of town where I would like to be seen," she added with a chuckle.

-"Madam, I thank you for coming to my home today. Unfortunately I have previous engagements to attend, so I must leave you now." Georgiana was thankful her upbringing could put the words in her mouth without her really having to think them up before. "Please send my best wishes for a full recovery to Edward and Josephine," she finished, turned to the door, opened it, and left the other one to show herself out.

Mrs. Wainwright thought that Lady Cavendish, for all her fashionable name and splendid wardrobe, was a little rude.

* * *

It was about a quarter to noon when Mr. Darcy considered he had finished selecting which books acquired during the season would be made part of Pemberley's library. Books comforted him, he knew, although he wasn't certain how any book could help him in his current state of confusion.

He heard the butler letting in a guest and wondered why people seemed set on calling on him today. He had denied receiving a caller earlier and planned on doing the same with this one. It wasn't going to be, however; he heard his sister's voice going through the house and calling him out.

-"Fitzwilliam!", some steps. "Fitzwilliam!", some more steps. "Fitzwilliam Darcy, where are you?"

It was going to be humanly impossible to avoid this call. He peeped out his study's door and met his sister's flushed face.

-"Fitzwilliam, good morning!" she started. "Have you heard? Miss Bennet, she's fine!" and her face glowed.

In his befuddlement he first thought about Jane and then of Elizabeth's body in good shape, not swollen and disfigured as drowned people's so often are.

-"She swam, Fitzwilliam, when she fell into the water the current pulled her away, but she held onto a wooden tray and alive," Georgiana's eyes glimmered in elation and it slowly started to down on Mr. Darcy that she was talking about Elizabeth. "She came out of the water a few miles down the river, and on the opposite bank. She had to walk, and it was all an ordeal for her, but she is alright!", and Georgiana let out a little laugh of happiness.

Mr. Darcy was silent. He was feeling as if the air that had left his lungs when he plunged into the river was coming back in a rush, his previously constricted chest now expanding almost painfully. His perception was sharpening in a strange fashion: he was noticing that his sister's dress wasn't charcoal but a dark purple, that the windowsill's flowers were turning from coloured stains to a saturated rich combination, that the Delft figurines on the mantelpiece, which he had always thought that looked bored and constipated, were smiling beatifically. Mr. Darcy hoped he wouldn't faint, because he couldn't say he was feeling too well.

Georgiana continued.

-"I heard it this morning, Mrs. Wainwright told me," he thought she was going to reprimand him for not taking Mrs. Wainwright's earlier call but she didn't. "I had to see it with my own eyes, of course, so I went to her uncle's house and spoke to her. She got scratches on her hands and forehead - the marsh's vegetation, I suppose, and she's a little tired, but she's well."

Georgiana finished and looked at him as if expecting something.

-"I think you should call on her, Fitzwilliam" she said softly. "I would give you the address, but I think you already have it," she added with a very little smile.

-"Georgiana," he spoke for the first time and his voice was rough. She looked back at him from the door, as she was already leaving. "Georgiana, you're my sister and you know I would do anything for you. This time, however, if you make me choose, it won't be you."

Georgiana's features draw themselves into a loving smile.

-"I won't make you choose between Elizabeth and I. You have my blessing," she said and put her hand on the doorknob. "I hope this time she says yes," she finished, and left.


	30. Chapter 30

Elizabeth was sitting on a small stool near the window in the small parlour of the Gardiners' home. Jane, sitting on a taller chair, was cleaning her wounds with gauze and fresh water, and applied an ointment made of geranium and cloves. It made Elizabeth's grazed skin burn, but she set her jaw to avoid groaning. It was not a task to be carried out in a parlour room, that's true, but since it was the spot with best light at this time of the day they had foregone forms for convenience.

Jane had heard of Elizabeth's disappearance early the previous evening (gossip of the ill fated celebration had spread like fire), and had had a terrible night believing her dead, her heart constricting when she anticipated sharing the news with her family. Her sister had figured so, so when one of the Waiwright's stable boys left in the morning for his duties Elizabeth had asked him to run with a note to Jane telling her that she was alive and well. Jane could hardly contain her joy and relief at the good news and had asked her mistress for the day off, to which her mistress had generously yielded - although only after Jane had promised to spend the next Sunday mending clothes to make up for it.

Both sisters had had luncheon with their aunt and cousins (the uncle didn't eat with them during weekdays), and had help with clearing up the table afterwards, as they were aware that the house help was scarce and they didn't want to impose. After the cleaning of wounds was over, they commented on Elizabeth's earlier visit, that one of Lady Cavendish. Jane was impressed by the Lady's courteous and agreeable manner as well as the genuine concern for her sister, which had extended even further when, about an hour after the Lady had left, a young woman arrived with a basket of freshly baked Chelsea buns as her gift for Miss Elizabeth.

Jane was really curious at this display of attention and would have liked to ask her sister for more but it was, however, a subject she did not dare to breach until Elizabeth opened up on her own accord, and they were now employed in mending their cousins' stockings and admiringly remarking the Lady's beautiful deep purple gown and the matching hyacinth coloured silken slippers and fan. Jane believed them to be damask but Elizabeth, equally observant, thought they were French. It was a light subject of conversation in appearances, but between two sisters that knew and loved each other so well it could be as meaningful as the most profound philosophical discussion.

They were thinking about having tea when Elizabeth caught sight of a figure outside, walking slowly and looking down, maybe in deep thought or indecisiveness. As if summoned by her attention, he looked up and she met Mr. Darcy's eyes. He tipped his hat in greeting but didn't move; only after Elizabeth returned the greeting with a nod did he keep walking, and less than a minute later the doorbell rang and a housemaid announced that Mr. Darcy was here to call on Miss Elizabeth, and requested the honour of being admitted to the parlour.


	31. Chapter 31

_A/N: The urban environment is stifling for these two creatures, made as they were for the green expanses of Herfordshire!_

* * *

When Mr. Darcy was shown into the room where both Miss Bennet and her sister were standing, he didn't notice the faded upholstery of the sofa or the old fashioned paper gracing the walls. He didn't see Jane Bennet, or the undergarments peeping from the sewing basket where they had been hurriedly stuffed. He barely took any notice of Elizabeth's scratched and oily forehead, and wondered why her hand went up to shade her eyes if her back was to the window.

The only thing he registered is that his Lizzy was alive, and that as long as that was true he still had a chance at being happy. Truly, madly, deeply happy.

With the effort of many men together he forced himself to circumscribe this visit to the prescriptions of politeness and gentility. He nodded, they curtsied, everyone sat and a conversation began.

Jane Bennet spoke first, and while looking at her he was shocked by her beauty. He remembered she was pretty, but years and life had given a mature serenity to her countenance it had lacked before. And she smiled, he noticed, smiled at him and at her hands and particularly at her sister, he realised, because she was happy.

This is what he hadn't known when he had first met her, that Jane Bennet's continuous smile was a token of irrepressible elation and not of shallowness. He applied himself to reply and Elizabeth soon jumped into their conversation. He said he wanted to express his satisfaction on her overcoming the previous day distressing events, and Elizabeth downplayed her feat in her accustomed modesty. They talked about the Wainwright children, and then he felt he might have to leave were it not for Jane Bennet's understated ability to keep a conversation going.

He was feeling awkward, intoxicated in her presence but unable to keep graceful manners, and Elizabeth was getting more and more quiet. Jane offered him some tea and apologising for the shortage of servants, left the room to prepare it herself.

Elizabeth knew she didn't have much time until her sister was back, and aware as she was that Mr. Darcy would soon leave for Derbyshire she didn't know when they would meet again. Gathering her courage while it was high she began:

-"Mr. Darcy, I am too selfish and in my worry for my own feelings, I have not paused to care about wounding yours. I must thank you for your unexampled kindness to my poor sister Lydia. Were it known to the rest of my family, I should not have merely my own gratitude to express. Let me thank you again and again for your generous compassion to her."

-"I am sorry, exceedingly sorry,'' replied Mr. Darcy, in a tone of surprise and emotion, "that you have ever been informed of what may, in a mistaken light, have given you uneasiness. If you will thank me, let it be for yourself alone," he continued as emotion made his voice softer and his eyes more brilliant. "My actions were guided by the wish of giving you relief or some measure of happiness. Your family owes me nothing... much as I respect them I thought only of you."

Elizabeth was too much embarrassed to say a word and lowered her eyes to her lap. After a short pause, her companion pleaded, "Elizabeth, look at me," and at her flushed and glowing face, her eyes shining in happy discomposure he added: "You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last time, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever.''

-"Sir, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth forced herself to reply, "my feelings have indeed changed and you must know it, you surely must," she shook her head slightly. "But my station has too. You once expressed your concerns for your family's expectations, this must be too far a gap in our ranks for them to accept," and her eyes went to her laced hands and looked back up to his in sadness and resignation.

He shook his head. "I know there is distance in our situations and for you I am willing to overlook it, and I truly hope you could too. However, if the difference is too wide for you to take, please know that I have spoken with my butler and he has agreed to trade places with me." Elizabeth frowned at this and began to smile. "Would this make me near enough for you to accept me?" he asked hopefully.

-"You trading places with your butler?" Elizabeth laughed at the idea of Mr. Darcy as a servant in his own house. "You cannot be serious!"

-"I assure you, I have never been more serious in my life," he said in a very soft voice while a smile, full of tenderness and hope, danced in his lips.

Her reply was cut by Jane's voice talking to someone in the hallway. Mrs. Gardiner was returning from an errand with her oldest children, and they later joined them with their tea. Only Jane perceived Elizabeth was very quiet but her eyes glimmered; Mr. Darcy was his usual silent self. They spoke only a little more and then he stood up, politely bid everyone goodbye and left.

Jane suspected she would hear again from Mr. Darcy soon and wasn't mistaken. It happened exactly the next day, when he went to the Markham family's home and requested to talk to her. He then explained her he hoped to marry Elizabeth, that it had been a wish of his for long, and that should she, Jane, agree to it, she could leave her governess post and return to her relations' home as soon as she wished, as he would gladly provide her with an annuity substituting in excess her yearly earnings.

Jane, who had never believed that Mr. Darcy was as evil as Mr. Wickham had ascertained, was quite astonished by the turn of the events, and not to a lesser extent, very happy for her favourite sister.


	32. Chapter 32

If one could live a life in just one day, reflected Mr. Darcy as his long strides took him through the streets of London to his destination, he could probably say he had lived his during the past twenty-four hours. A Friday, he mentally remarked. He had realised that he loved a woman more than his own name and everything that was attached to it; the circumstances he had believed immoveable had reversed and he had taken action, ready to face the consequences... whichever they may be.

He caught a reflection of himself on a glass door; his step was light, his head was high, he could hardly keep his countenance from breaking into a wide and self satisfied grin. Earlier, on his way to the Gardiners' home, he had felt like a beaten and thirsty horse struggling to make it to the drinking trough, and the first time he had left the house that morning, he had felt like a legged flour sack. It's enough variety, concluded Mr. Darcy, to know for certain this is how I want to be myself, every day.

He had not had enough time to talk to Elizabeth, to say all the very important little things he wanted to say. He had told her he still wanted to marry her and hoped she remembered the best parts of his first proposal, if there were any that is, but he hadn't mentioned courting her and after the hardships she had gone through lately, he thought she deserved a time of flirt and carelessness. Being mistress of Pemberley might take some adjusting on her part and she might also miss her family, so, he decided, he would propose fixing the date for marriage some months further down the year.

Every plan he sketched in his mind put him in a quandary of sorts, however: he did not want to make Elizabeth awkward by forcing her into the society of her former employers or their friends, but on the other hand he was not in the least discomfited by the particulars of her situation, and saw no reason to deprive her of the pleasures of the season. He saw no reason to hide her.

He left that thought aside for a moment. He now wondered if she should prefer living in town to the estate, if she would rather have an active social calendar to a more retired life, if mornings suit her better than evenings. He wondered which were her pet peeves and if she had any weaknesses, like candied fruit or perhaps something expensive she could have now. He wondered if she still sang and played the piano with the same relish and feeling, and if she would do it once they were married.

Mr. Darcy was acutely aware that while he loved Elizabeth Bennet more than his own life, the rest of which he planned on spending in her company, he only had glimpses of the the small details that patterned the surface of domesticity during the week she had spent nursing her sister in Netherfield, so long ago. It wasn't much; it was nothing at all, and he was anxious to rectify that.

With his mind deep in such conjectures, yet aware enough of his surroundings to avoid dirtying himself with manure, he turned the corner into Georgiana's street and walked the ten yards until finding himself at his sister's door. The outdoor servant took notice of him and let him in immediately; inside he was greeted by another servant and shown into the parlour, and a few minutes later a housemaid informed him that the lady of the house was in the upstairs library and would be glad to receive him there.

* * *

Lady Georgiana had last seen her brother less than a day before, but this lapse felt like centuries. She was eager to see him, to hear how his meeting with Elizabeth had gone. She knew better than to ask him anything - a question, a detail, a hint, but the moment she met him she knew it wasn't necessary. She had never seen her brother so unequivocally... happy.

He sat and spoke with a fluency she had never heard from him: of dilemmas and conundrums, of how to thread the delicate and often perverse rules of the upper echelon. He wanted to court the woman who had already accepted his marriage proposal for purposes if not for forms, but didn't want to expose her to contempt or gossip. He wanted her to have a pleasurable time before having to face the duties ascribed to the wife of a man in his position, he wanted her to have only fun and not a care.

Georgiana couldn't help smiling at his brother's concern for his bride. After a particularly long sentence, and sipping from her cup of tea, she asked his brother: "And why don't you ask her yourself?"

-"I hope I'll see her tomorrow, she has free on Sundays... Well, it's her last Sunday of work, I imagine," he added smiling. The situation was quite unusual but he didn't mind.

-"Or maybe today, as she will come later for tea," and at her brother half laughing, half scandalised expression she added, "Both Miss Jane and Miss Elizabeth will come today for tea with me. I thought I might enjoy the company of both sisters, but you are allowed to speak to Lizzy in private," she finished with a sly grin.

It hung over Mr. Darcy that his sister was becoming a little too much like their aunt, Lady Catherine, and thought about remonstrating her. But, while the purpose was clearly to his advantage, she was also benefiting from it. There weren't many people Georgiana would mingle with on her own accord, and he could perfectly believe that both eldest Bennet sisters fit in that privileged group in their own right.


	33. Chapter 33

-"Lizzy... What's going on?"

Jane Bennet uttered this question barely above a whisper while the elegant carriage Lady Georgiana Cavendish had sent to collect them approached to their spot by the servants' door of Jane's mistress's house. Her sister looked back, flustered.

-"Lizzy, Mr. Darcy came this morning to see me," continued Jane and Elizabeth's eyes opened like saucers. "He told me he loves you and wants to marry you, is that true?"

Elizabeth nodded, her sparkling eyes didn't left her sister's. A footman descended from the driver's seat on the front, opened the carriage's door and proceeded to help them climb into it.

-"Yes, Jane, it is true," Elizabeth replied once they were seated.

-"But I thought you detested the man," Jane's countenance reflected only bewilderment. "Oh Lizzy, please don't marry him for his money. Things are difficult now but being a governess has its benefits!"

-"I know, Jane, but I do love him... Many things happened since we last discussed Mr. Darcy, and I'm guilty of not sharing them with you," Elizabeth feared to hurt his sister with this admission but Jane's face didn't register any feelings of betrayal. She was that loyal and understanding, to allow her most beloved sister to have her own secrets.

-"Jane, do you remember when I went to Kent, to Charlotte's when she first married? Mr. Darcy was there too, and he proposed marriage to me," Elizabeth had thought many times of the events she was relating but this was the first time they found a way to her voice, "and I turned him down heinously; among other things I accused him of being Wickham's source of disgraces," both sisters winced and shook their heads at this point, "but he wrote me a letter apologising and giving his version. It was an... an impressive letter, Jane, and I started forgiving him then."

The carriage stopped before turning into a wider street, and started again a few moments later.

-"There is a lot more to say, Jane, and I promise I will tell you all one day, but in short, he forgave me too and he still loves me in spite of everything," Jane had never seen this smile on her sister's face before. "I can hardly believe it, but he did tell me yesterday when you left the room to make tea."

-"Oh Lizzy!", Jane's eyes glimmered and she laughed, "I had no clue I was interrupting a marriage proposal! Had I known I would have baked a cake too, just to give you more time!"

Both sisters broke out laughing softly, more of a giggle in one case, and they sobered up when the carriage stopped, as they had arrived to the fashionable townhouse owned by Lord Cavendish and his wife.

* * *

A housekeeper was waiting for them under the stoop and welcomed them formally, and then leaded them to the parlour where the Lady awaited them.

Lady Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley stood up when the guests arrived and greeted them warmly, and then they all seated. Her Ladyship attempted at starting a conversation, but her shyness and excitement were not a good combination. Mrs. Annesley came to the rescue at once, thanking the guests for coming and complimenting Jane's earrings.

Elizabeth asked about Lord Cavendish and that seemed to help Georgiana. She said her husband had left town for hunting in Dorset, and that it was a family tradition that all the men would gather during the first Saturday of June to spend the next seven days or so hunting magnificent young red deers. It was a family rite of passage, she added, and Lord Cavendish anticipated when his son would be old enough to join them.

Talking about her own marriage gave Georgiana some momentum and she allowed herself to smile into her teacup and then, meaningfully, to Elizabeth. She responded in kind.

-"Miss Elizabeth, I believe we'll be family soon," said in a voice a tad shrill by elation. She swallowed and continued. "My brother informed me that your" she gestured to indicate Elizabeth and another person, "your arrangement still has many details to settle. If... I... I took the liberty of inviting him this afternoon. I hope you don't mind," she added hurriedly, "I don't want to impose on you," her cheeks turned a deep crimson. "I really enjoy your company, Miss Elizabeth," she finished without actually saying all she had to say.

Jane observed their host with curiosity and soon concluded it was a great deal of self-consciousness what accounted for such unusual behaviour; the previous day she had arrived and left in a flurry, which Jane now attributed to the desire to avoid awkwardness. Elizabeth, who had the opportunity to reach the same conclusions much earlier, replied with kindness.

-"My Lady, it will be an honour to call you my sister. It is true that we didn't have time to discuss the particulars and I appreciate your gesture," she said composedly but her own cheeks matched in tone Lady Georgiana's.

Jane felt that, in spite of being in the presence of two ladies she almost didn't know, it was correct to mention Mr. Darcy's proposal to her now.

-"Lizzy, I feel you should know what Mr. Darcy told me this morning, when he came to the Markham's." Jane wondered whether she was making the biggest mistake, if this was the biggest indiscretion. It hadn't seemed so when she started, but now it was just... strange. "He said that, if I agreed to it, I could give up my post and live with the Gardiners, that he would compensate me for it."

Lizzy was speechless for a moment. Lady Georgiana jumped in.

-"I'm not surprised. Fitzwilliam is very generous, and he sees money as a means to an end," she nodded as she tried to obliterate the unspoken notion of Mr. Darcy was attempting to make Jane his mistress. "He knows you two are very close, and he wants you to spend Lizzy's last weeks before marriage together. He has enough money to do that, but he won't be offended if you decline," she said with a little smile.

-"You can take it as an engagement present, if you like," she continued, "as he's been known to be very generous with them," and a gleam of wickedness that offered a glimpse of the real Georgiana behind the wall of shyness shone for a second in her eyes, but then it was gone and she applied herself to eat her slice of cake.

The butler came into the room and announced Mr. Darcy, who came in immediately with a purposely stride. Both Jane and Elizabeth starting to rise from their seats but he dismissed the formality with a flicker of the hand and a warm smile.

-"Your Ladyship, Mrs. Annesley, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth", he greeted each woman present and he seemed to reserve the last greeting for the most special one.

He sat next to Her Ladyship, who was fanning herself with energy. The women were silent but he didn't seem surprised or intimidated. He looked at each face, weighing in their expressions, and then talked to all of them but particularly his sister.

-"Did I interrupt something?", he asked.

-"Yes, Fitzwilliam," replied his sister. "Gossip, of the juiciest kind," she clarified and rapped him lightly on the shoulder with the fan.

-"Does it involve any childhood anecdote of mine?" he asked next. "Not that there is much to be embarrassed about, but I would like to tell them myself," and his was a private smile to Elizabeth. Jane looked down, and Mrs. Annesley cut more cake.

-"No", replied Georgiana. "It involves engagement gifts," she added as the wicked smile shone again.

-"Oh," he said simply. "I'm sure you can tell it much better than I would, but we must request discretion from our guests."

Both sisters nodded, their curiosity piqued.

-"Fitzwilliam gave a very generous engagement gift to Mrs. MacIntyre, formerly known as Miss Caroline Bingley." Elizabeth's eyebrows rose to her hairline and Jane retreated from a name that was still painful to hear. Georgiana continued. "What's interesting about this, is that the gift was promised long before the engagement was announced or the courting even started."

Elizabeth's eyes fixed on Mr. Darcy's. He looked back at her and talked.

-"It had been quite evident for some time that Miss Bingley had developed a _tendre_ for my person, which was quite persistent even if no reciprocation was ever expressed. Miss Bingley's... hints... made me fear at a certain point that my proximity could impregnate her," here all the ladies giggled in shock, "so when Mr. Ewan MacIntyre evidenced some romantic interest on Miss Bingley, I promised her a gift in cash for her to spend as she wished, if she accepted the suit and got engaged," he finished with a knowing smile.

-"My appreciation for Miss Bingley increased largely in the light of her choices," he concluded, "to take the money and the husband seems the very embodiment of wisdom."

Elizabeth smiled even more widely but Jane coughed lightly.

-"I gather you're still in touch with the Bingley family," she said weakly and blushing.

-"I do," replied Mr. Darcy, knowing with certainty the purpose of the comment. "Although I haven't seen my friend in many years. He left for the Continent and is touring the Mediterranean Sea... I hope he returns to England soon, but it seems unlikely."

-"Did he... is he married now?" Jane forced herself to look at Mr. Darcy straight in the eye.

-"No," he replied softly. "He's not."


	34. Chapter 34

Lady Georgiana lifted her eyes to the long case clock standing between the windows.

-"Mrs. Annesley, I believe my son must have awoken from his nap. Can you please bring him down?", she requested politely. Mrs. Annesley nodded and left the room, to return only five minutes later with the toddler, sleep still clinging to his eyelashes and a brilliant good mood.

He strode into the room purposely, just as his uncle had before him but on much shorter legs, and then ran into his mother's lap. He babbled animatedly to her and his uncle, and both replied with full formed sentences that might or might not have any sense at all.

-"Would you like to join us for a short walk, Miss Bennet?", asked the Lady still cuddling her son. "Every day at this hour we take him out for some air, and we would be honoured to have your company."

Jane saw the obvious purpose of the invitation, but the plan still sounded quite good. She was not a keen walker, true, but she didn't imagine the pregnant Lady or her aged assistant walking as earnestly as her sister would.

-"Of course," she replied as she stood up.

* * *

Mr. Darcy had thought, more than once, that the only appropriate spot of that house to discuss anything personal with Elizabeth (and that included being alone with her), was the upstairs library. They all stood when the party divided, and once the main door shut behind the other three ladies he extended his right hand towards Elizabeth, who was staring at her own hands, awkwardness pouring out her very presence.

-"Miss Elizabeth, would you agree that the upstairs library is a much pleasing room to discuss wedding's arrangements?" he asked softly, trying to appease her discomfort.

She looked up at him sharply, blushing even harder.

-"This is a fine room too," he added calmly and daring a boyish grin, which earned him a shy smile.

-"I agree both are fine rooms," she replied in a weak voice nodding. "Perhaps in the library we won't be in anybody of this household's ways," she finished while the crimson extended to her neck and ears. She felt positively on the verge of melting into a puddle of self-consciousness and insecurity, how unusual of her! She sighed very slightly and gathered her courage, so she raised her head and pulled her shoulders back, and looked Mr. Darcy in the eye with an assured little smile.

Mr. Darcy watched this transformation with the tender astonishment Elizabeth always seemed to elicit in him, and took it as a compliance to his original plan. His right hand extended again, but not quite touching her forearm, leaded her gently but surely out of the parlour room to the hallway and the stairs, and up to the library of the second floor.

* * *

Elizabeth's mind was running wild through all the possible scenarios that would develop next. Would Mr. Darcy talk about money? About feelings? Would he mention her grazed skin, wondering if there would be scars? Would he attempt, giving his circumstances and hers, and his promise of marriage, to advance their wedding night? What would they do? Would she find him as pleasing and attractive, or would she find a far more realistic version of him?

Her mind was a little weary, that's true, but her heart was singing in anticipation. She wanted to hear him talk, to know more about him, the wealthy gentleman who said he would trade places with his butler just to be with her. To delight in the soft lower tones of his voice, in the rumble of his manly laughter, to devote herself to the study of his intelligent eyes and noble features.

Mr. Darcy shut the door of the library behind him, a little smile fluttering in the corners of his lips and stood by her in the middle of the room.

-"Elizabeth," he savoured the name as if it was the most delicious treat. "I can hardly express how immensely fortunate your sole existence makes me. I told you yesterday, my feelings for you have not changed in many years and the highest honour I can aspire is to become your husband. Elizabeth Bennet, would you marry me?"

Elizabeth smiled at him not taking for granted what she thought that was obvious.

-"Why, yes, Mr. Darcy," she chuckled in embarrassment, "although I confess I am surprised you didn't hate me after I abused you to your face abominably in Hunsford," she shook her head and her eyes went to the bookshelves.

-"Hate you? I could not!" he replied laughing softly and added, "but what did you say then that was not true? Your accusations might have been ill-founded, but my attitude, my words... I cannot think of it with abhorrence!"

-"Oh, don't!" she exclaimed and frowned. "Follow my philosophy, remember from the past only the things that bring you pleasure," she said with a smile with just a note of sadness in it.

-"I don't think it's philosophy," he replied and, with great boldness he stretched his hand slowly until reaching hers, and held it lightly as if they were dancing, "I think it's innocence. Unfortunately I cannot claim the same... I am selfish, if not in principle in action. A spoiled child, I was taught I was right and so I was until you showed me the errors of my ways," he continued while his other hand met its match, hanging motionless by her side, "what do I not owe you, Elizabeth?", he finished raising both her hands and looking fixedly at them.

Elizabeth felt a little nervous at this examination but didn't move. He leaned over and took them almost to his lips, but didn't kiss them. Instead, he blew very softly over the scratches. "Does this relieve the burning?", he asked resting his gaze upon her eyes. She nodded. Very gently, as if they were the most fragile things, he left her hands fall to her sides and let his hands raise to her face.

His thumbpads roamed the soft edge of her jaw while his palms rested very lightly on her throat and his long fingers' tips found spots behind and below her ears where life and warmth swam in happiness. He cradled her nape, carefully and tenderly, and waited for her to open her eyes.

Elizabeth felt a question was being asked without words and pondered her reply for a moment. Then, with a boldness born from longing and relief and the knowledge that had things been only a little different she wouldn't be there, she opened her eyes and let them find their way up from his chin, the barely apart lips, the aquiline nose and the eyes, she noticed for the first time, were green with radiating speckles of gold, and were warm with affection that mirrored hers.

He rested his forehead over hers, nose tip against nose tip, his hands not letting go of her precious face, and murmured, "I thought I would never see you again," and Elizabeth thought his eyes glimmered with unshed tears.

-"I thought of you when I swam. It was for you, just to see you again," she confessed in a whisper.

* * *

Lady Georgiana and her companions were back from their walk and wanted a refreshment. The household bustled in activity before dinner, the carriages on the street took their occupants back from calls or to early summer soirées. Above, a crescent moon was rising over the rooftops well before the sun had gone to its sea bed, while the few clouds near the sunset spot were already catching fire.

Mr. Darcy realised he had not discussed any of the concerns that had occupied his mind during the morning. He hadn't even asked Elizabeth about whom he should apply for her hand to, or the most basic details of their wedding such as when and where. He hurriedly addressed the former and they agreed he would discuss it the next day with her uncle Gardiner.

This was very little knowledge to lighten all the important questions he had listed. He had, however, added to his private catalogue of experiences a new one, a most favourite one which, if pressed to describe, he would compare to eating ripe peaches in summer: something warm, juicy, soft and above all, sweet. He was delighted and marveled, and reconsidered his previous plans of a rather long courtship - if it would keep him from learning and exploring this newfound pleasure. He sighed and laughed at himself, privately, while he walked back to his house and felt like the stars were all winking and the moon was just one broad smile up in the night skies.

Elizabeth, on her part, while in the ride back home with a silent Jane, let her fingertips slide absentmindedly over her velvet reticule and its silk tassels. It reminded her fingerpads of a similar, yet much more pleasurable, route of softness and warmth it had just been revealed to them.


	35. Chapter 35

Had the silk merchants decided to give their prized merchandise for free, or a storm covered the Houses of Parliament with snow that August, or even, the Kraken himself showed up in the Thames during a royal promenade, they would have caused less of a commotion than the announcement of the engagement of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, Derbyshire, to Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Gracechurch Street, did among the ton.

Unfortunately, the announcement was published in mid July - when every individual of fashion was not in town (or if they were, they wouldn't admit it or be as slow-witted as to send correspondence revealing such fact), so everyone felt their August moved at snail pace. They wanted to meet the lady in question, but above all, ladies of the upper society (and a few men too), wanted to gossip and to try to find her dirty laundry.

The ladies who had had their own aspirations to win the gentleman's heart crushed by his polite indifference declared themselves shocked - while they actually felt betrayed. They had wanted to console themselves believing the gentleman indifferent to the fair sex in general but this was proof of their own inadequacy. A bitter drink to swallow indeed.

That the lucky Miss had no lands or fortune to her name but only a gentleman father stung to those whose fortunes had been made in commerce and Mr. Darcy was therefore condemned as supercilious, but it was when it became known that she had been a member of the Wainwright household as a governess that all hell broke loose.

Ladies employing governesses looked at them with ill-concealed mistrust, believing them rivals rather than boosters of their daughters' marriages prospectives. Married gentlemen looked at them with reluctant respect, and single gentlemen... Suffice it to say that marrying a governess seemed to be in fashion that season, much to (mostly) everyone's dismay.

The fortunate Miss was not known in society and for many getting a glimpse of the future Mrs. Darcy became some sort of sport, although there was something of stale to that novelty. The courtship had been out and public for more than six weeks when the first members of the higher circles were back from their holidays and able to meet her; so servants staying in town, small businesspeople and members of the impoverished nobility were the ones to have the scoop.

Thanks to said servants it soon became common knowledge: that the Miss was not excessively young but very polite and pleasant, that she was originally from Hertfordshire and her acquaintance with Mr. Darcy dated of many years, and that the Darcy and Cavendish households had transferred servants to the little known-to almost unknown Gardiner family, whose roof the bride called home.

That was as far as the ton could get a hold of. The Miss (many ladies affected a case of bad memory to her name and referred to her with this title), was always in the company of either Mr. Darcy, Lady Cavendish, a very beautiful lady that was soon known to be her sister, Lady Cavendish's lady in waiting, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam or many other people. Those familiar with war tactics really thought Miss Bennet to be securely shielded in every one of her public appearances. It was quite difficult to reach her, and, understandably in the light of the short guest list to their wedding, the interest died out before the Parliament sat next January.

The courtship indeed had a strategy that could rival the child of any military mind, both in intelligence and zealousness, and it counted two casualties during it development.

One was Lady Catherine de Bourgh, aunt of the groom, who descended from Kent to town with the sole purpose of breaking off the engagement, on the grounds that the shades of Pemberley shouldn't be thus polluted. An irate Mr. Darcy reportedly replied that the only thing that would make him break off his engagement to Miss Bennet was the hope of sparing her from such embarrassing new relations. Lady Catherine claimed such disregard to propriety was not to be borne, and hasn't been heard from ever since. Not surprisingly, since she did not take the trouble to ingratiate herself with the younger members of the high society who had in their hands the selection of guests to the most notable parties of the season either.

But most humiliating to the old lady was the fact that Mr. Darcy forced her to allow his bride to keep correspondence with anyone under her patronage. Nobody really understood that point, but it was enough revealing that Lady Catherine almost had an apoplexy.

The other casualty was Miss Bennet's former employer, Mrs. Abigail Wainwright. She didn't take well Miss Bennet just stating that she was leaving her post for family reasons, and she complained loudly that her daughter Josephine had been ill used by Lady Georgiana, who had invited her to her home just to allowing the lovers to meet. This was soon proved false, however, as Mademoiselle Perrenault, the Wainwrights' new governess, attested that Josephine still frequented the Cavendish home and gave a detailed description of Lady Georgiana's famed doll house.

Mrs. Wainwright wasn't invited to the Christmas Day grand tea of Lady Windermere, and was heartbroken.


	36. Chapter 36

The months leading up to Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy and Miss Elizabeth Bennet's wedding flowed smoothly. This was, obviously, thanks to a plan carefully laid by the groom and his closest entourage, most notably his sister, aiming to ease the transition of the bride from being the impoverished daughter of a land gentleman to holding a position of consequence, one that held power, responsibilities and visibility.

Mr. Darcy had thought more than once, and probably not in a mood he was too fond of revisiting, that Elizabeth had not been raised to become mistress of an estate such as Pemberley. He was wary of how she would take having in her hands the fates of so many people - servants and tenants alike, and he wanted to know her mind before the problem presented itself.

It was already mid September and their wedding was four weeks away. Summer was gone and Autumn was blowing its cool red kisses through the streets and the parks. Mr. Darcy suddenly remembered the existence of hot chocolate cups and cinnamon buns, and as his horse took him from his banker's office to Georgiana's home he wondered if her sister had had prepared a substantial afternoon snack befitting the weather. He had also some news to deliver, which he wanted to share with Elizabeth first before they became common knowledge.

He smiled to himself. His courtship was being some sort of crowded affair, as he was taking his engagement visits to the Gardiner's home as an opportunity to meet with Elizabeth's family and see her in action, and often Georgiana and his nephew came with him. This may lead one to think, mistakenly I may add, that he didn't enjoy any private moments with his bride. Far from true, actually.

Custom indicated that the bride and her mother would buy a trousseau, but as the present circumstances rendered this impossible it was Georgiana who had taken upon herself to lavish Elizabeth with new gowns and accessories: hats, shoes and gloves. Georgiana's personal dressmaker was the one charged and such duty, and she would come to the Cavendish townhouse with a small army of seamstresses and assistants and take over one of Georgiana's private rooms, where Elizabeth and Georgiana, and sometimes Jane too, he also learned, tried on their new dresses.

And when they left, Elizabeth would stay and he would meet her in the upstairs library. Propriety was always observed except, perhaps, for the single fact that they were alone; for while he desired her with a passion that sometimes bordered on pain, and at night he dreamed of tracing and tasting the map of his desire on her skin, in his mind he knew there would be time. He didn't want to force her into an awkward situation, something improper, or to leave things half done. Later, there would be time.

He had gleaned one thing, however, that kissing Lizzy was always new and always delicious. Was there anything more irreverent and delicate, generous and pure, warm and comforting than his Lizzy? Could a man be more in love, could a man feel more fortunate than himself? He didn't think so.

But there was more than kissing and holding each other's hands and faces in the upstairs library's meeting; they would also talk, freely, unabashedly. He knew of her misgivings about her mother, and she knew of his worries about her not liking being Mrs. Darcy. The subject they had discussed more was his interference in Bingley and Jane's courtship; while he regretted most of it, she had learned to see the whole affair under a new light.

In the early evening, as they joined Lord Cavendish and Georgiana around the tea table, he brought up the news: that Charles Bingley was back from the Continent and had met him earlier that day. He was changed; he was pensive and his laughter wasn't as ready as it used to, his once pale skin now had the marks of exposure to a sun that was not English, but Mr. Darcy harboured the hope that the old carefree Charles was still under the surface and he wondered how he would react when he met Jane Bennet again.

During their dressing trials Georgiana had told Elizabeth and Jane about Mr. Bingley's marriage, all the while keeping some details to herself. Mrs. Hortense Bingley was an easy going young woman Charles had met during a time of melancholy, and after she had managed to make him laugh in every one of their meetings during a month he had proposed to her, and they were married within another month. In spite of their good start he had soon discovered that life with Hortense was not pink coloured, and had quitely bemoaned that she always seemed predisposed to think ill of everyone. Georgiana didn't say anything of this, or the fact that when he overindulged he always spoke of Jane, and simply said that he was devastated by her death and their unborn child and had left England, leaving the managing of his business in the hands of a cousin and business partner.

When they first met, Georgiana had thought of Jane as possibly the most beautiful woman in her acquaintance and had no trouble believing Charles Bingley (or any other man for that matter) to be infatuated with her. The more she met the soft spoken eldest Miss Bennet, however, she began noticing little traits that made her a special match with Charles. There was a quiet demure, a shy optimism and a rare delight in the simple things they both shared.

Georgiana didn't want to play matchmaker but she trusted their old incipient spark would need very little stoking to rekindle into wild engulfing flames.


	37. Chapter 37

Elizabeth told Jane that very evening, when they were both in their shared guest bedroom and ready to sleep, that Mr. Bingley was back in town. Jane assured her that Mr. Bingley could be in town, in the Continent or in the moon and it would make no difference to her, thus effectively closing the subject. Elizabeth knew Jane still suffered by her disappointed hopes but if she didn't want to open her heart just yet, she could wait. Giving each other space for secrets and privacy was something both sisters regarded as very important, and Elizabeth didn't bring Mr. Bingley up again.

* * *

A castle - a fortress indeed, defended by a dragon, and a princess asleep inside. The princess is my heart, my poor broken heart, the thick walls of the castle are made of my silence, the dragon is my polite indifference.

Such was Jane's mindset as she descended from the carriage at the Cavendish home's main entrance; the casual observer wouldn't have noticed anything amiss in her demeanour but Elizabeth noted Jane clutched her little fan with a force that would possibly crush it. They had been invited to dinner with both their aunt and uncle and their eldest niece, aged fifteen, and she knew Charles, Mr. Bingley, would likely be there.

* * *

They were shown into the parlour, where about a dozen people were assembled. Mr. Darcy was standing near the window, talking to Colonel Fitzwilliam and Lord Cavendish; Lady Georgiana was talking to Miss Hancock, and Mrs. Annesley was talking to Miss Hancock's mother. There were two gentlemen and one lady they hadn't met before, and in the corner, Charles Bingley was looking down at a book in hands.

How it happened, she never knew. Jane didn't seek him, had actually prepared herself to avoid him, yet the moment she set foot in the room he raised his eyes from the page and met hers. She looked down immediately, feeling exposed and vulnerable, and he looked down too.

The newcomers went round the room greeting everyone present; Elizabeth talked warmly to Mr. Bingley, expressing her delight in seeing him again. He replied with a little smile that hardly reached his eyes that it was mutual, and congratulated her on her upcoming nuptials. Jane stood half a step behind her sister, a mask of detachment firmly in place, her eyes eluding his steadily. Not a sound left her lips.

Mr. Bingley was changed. He was not the man of the easy manners and the happy smile they had met in Netherfield, but one that seemed... weighed down. He had once said he didn't have the patience to read, but now he was holding a book in his hands; he had once said he could move on a whim but always seemed rooted, this one had wandered like a leaf in the wind. Jane thought it was because he still mourned his wife but Elizabeth, more rightly, believed the reason to be standing silently by her side.

Miss Jane Bennet and Mr. Charles Bingley didn't talk to each other that evening. They conformed to the rules of politeness and courtesy acknowledging each other, but spent most of the dinner in the exhaustive study of their forks, and joined the conversations of their neighbours only as listeners.

* * *

-"Miss Elizabeth, good morning."

Mr. Darcy greeted his fiancée formally as it was his custom, in spite of a rather unusual morning call. She replied in kind, and sat on the setee as he took one of the chairs.

Mornings were a busy time in the Gardiner household: taking advantage of the still nice weather Jane had taken the children to the park, Mrs. Gardiner had gone shopping with her eldest daughter, the servants were all at work.

-"Lizzy, it didn't go well last night with Jane and Charles, did it?", he asked as soon as they were alone.

-"It's hard to say," she replied. "Jane keeps it all to herself," she shook her head softly, "why do you ask?" she added with a light frown of curiosity.

-"I would like to take you to the theater tonight - Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, I believe, but Georgiana and Richard have previous engagements. We may go with the Gardiners if they feel like, but I was thinking on Jane and Charles."

Elizabeth smiled widely.

-"Well, thank you for the invitation, Fitzwilliam" she paused as she delighted in pronouncing a name she had felt forbidden until quite recently. "I truly don't believe Jane would refuse being in Charles' company, and it is acceptable to be silent in a theater... so I think she will agree. I will ask her as soon as she returns, just to be sure. Send someone for confirmation in the early afternoon, will you?"

Mr. Darcy left Gracechurch Street deep in thought. His friend's melancholy was the counterpart to a sunny side that used to prevail, but he believed the sun still shone behind the present clouds.


	38. Chapter 38

Jane was far too proud to admit, even to her own sister, that she dreaded meeting Mr. Bingley again. Not so much for what he would do or say, but for herself. The previous night had been an ordeal, and she had felt on the verge of tears when confronted to his indifference. For this man, she had worn her heart on her sleeve - she still did. She felt embarrassed and humilliated, betrayed by her own feelings. But life was a difficult affair and she was glad enough for her sister finding love; her own heart should wait until she became an aunt to be filled with joy again.

She also accepted this invitation because they would be far from alone in Mr. Darcy's box. The pervading light of the stage and the auditorium allowing the prying eyes of the occupants of the pit below and the other boxes to inspect and observe them, somehow made it easier to put on a mask and go on with the performance.

Jane sat between Elizabeth and Charles and perused her copy of the program with excessive interest. Unfortunately, there were only so many times one could read a one page program and she soon found herself looking at the seams of her gloves.

-"Have you seen this play before, Miss Bennet?", Mr. Bingley's voice interrupted such endeavour.

She looked up in surprise at first but forced her eyes to continue their route primly until finding a spot above his eyebrows.

-"I'm afraid I have not. I have read the book, though," she replied quietly looking to the stage and fanning herself.

They were silent. Their companions would talk to each other sparsely, in hushed tones. More than once she felt Mr. Bingley's casting a sideways glance in her direction and she hoped her choice of dress that night complimented her, but she then chastised herself for such thoughts.

During the intermission her sister stood up and so did Mr. Darcy. Mr. Bingley stayed on his seat, quiet, and she wondered if he was asleep.

He wasn't. He caught her eyes and held them captive, challenging her not to look away. She didn't. They looked at each other for what felt like an eternity, not saying anything. Finally Mr. Bingley's r¡ght hand, the one farthest from her, reached out for her in an entreaty.

-"Would you like to come out to the corridor?", he asked softly.

She shook her head.

-"No, thank you."

A servant passed with a tray with refreshments.

-"Would you like something to drink?", Mr. Bingley asked now standing up.

Jane was very thirsty but declined.

The second part was going to start so her companions sat back in their seats. The play went on as the first one did, but this time Jane was certain that Mr. Bingley was looking at her. She thought she heard him sigh more than once, but of this, she wasn't too sure.

* * *

-"Did you enjoy last night's play, Miss Bennet?" Mr. Bingley asked not looking at her. They were seating on a bench in Hyde Park; they had come with Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth but they walked too much for her tired feet, and now she was resting.

-"I did. The star crossed lovers' was a favourite book of my father, and he knew several passages by heart," replied Jane.

-"Is that so?", he asked with polite interest.

-"Yes," she replied quietly. "Mercucio was his favourite character, and my father liked to say that his demise at the hands of Teobald while defending Romeo seemed the first of a long chain of misunderstandings."

-"Do you believe 'Romeo and Juliet' to be about misunderstandings?" he asked now frowning, and looking at her.

-"I suppose it can be seen as such," replied Jane not quite meeting his eyes. "Romeo mistakenly believes Juliet dead and commits suicide; the knot of the tragedy is based on a wrong assumption," she finished.

-"But aren't all tragedies so?," he mused aloud. "Isn't it the misunderstanding of the other's intentions what leads us on to wrong beliefs and unreasonable hopes?" he continued while chopping a blade of grass.

-"I do not know what you mean," Jane replied frowning. He was silent.

-"I loved you" he said suddenly, "I loved you and believed you to return my feelings," he added lowering his face until the chin touched his chest, but then raised it and met her eyes. "But it was obvious to everyone but me that it wasn't so," he added shaking his head and looking over the path. "Sometimes we're not made to inspire the same feelings we experience," he finished weakly and after a few moments looked back at his silent companion.

Jane was biting her lips and frowning, all her face scrunched; she covered her eyes with her gloved hand but a tear escaped and ran freely down her smooth cheek. He looked at her sadly and offered her his handkerchief from his front pocket. She accepted it and hid her face behind it.

There was a soft autumnal breeze; the birds chirped and squawked calling each other from the trees. Children's laughter and nursemaids calling were heard, but the only sound he heard was her strangled sobs from his beloved Jane.

-"Please, Miss Bennet, don't cry," he said softly. "I am sorry I upset you, it was very selfish of me," he added.

-"Mr. Bingley, I... I don't..." Jane attempted to talk but it wasn't easy to find the right words. "I am quite shy, Mr. Bingley, but you were not mistaken," she said and more tears moistened her face. "I am so sorry," she shook her head.

Mr. Bingley was not known to circumvent the rules of propriety, but extreme action was needed right there and then. He approached Jane's face, still downcast, and whispered into her ear:

-"Then tell me it is not too late, Jane. Tell me you still love me, allow me to make amends for the time we've lost. My heart has only loved you, and I don't deserve your forgiveness," Jane's face was up but still covered by her hands, "but if you tell me all hope is not lost, my sweet Jane, I would do whatever it takes."

Slowly the hands lowered taking his handkerchief along. Her face was bloated, her eyes were red, but the very little smile on her lips and the light in her eyes was enough reply.


	39. Chapter 39

It was already a fortnight since the night at the theatre, and in just another fortnight Elizabeth Bennet would change her name for Darcy. A long engagement (of nearly four months!) was a very unusual way of going about things for someone who clearly could afford marrying at once, but the members of the Beau Monde were quite accustomed to Mr. Darcy doing whatever he saw fit and paying little heed to the rest. Other men and women would dread being ostracized, would beg to be accepted back, but not Mr. Darcy or his sister, Lady Georgiana, who held more influence in their little fingers than most members of the gentry and aristocracy.

True to its intended purpose, this engagement had helped Elizabeth come into terms with the decease of her youngest sister as well as recover some of her old relations. She was now keeping a regular correspondence with Charlotte, as well as her sisters and mother. They all expressed a good deal of excitement for her nuptials in their letters, to which Mr. Darcy had mentioned, only half joking, that he expected Kitty to be married soon, and maybe even Mrs. Bennet would find a suitor. Elizabeth herself would rather avoid such thoughts except in what concerned Jane, who was very slowly admitting that Mr. Bingley was very close, and near, and dear to her.

It would take a few more weeks until Jane Bennet and Charles Bingley announced their engagement (which would also be a rather long one, of about half a year), as they navigated through their previous misunderstandings and all the changes life had brought over each. Jane now would confide more openly in her sister, about the marvel of finding such a kindred spirit and the reasons that separated them in the first place; she now knew of Miss Bingley and Mr. Darcy's interference, and with the kindness that was core to her soul, had forgiven both.

Mr. Darcy was much obliged and offered to pay for the any expense related to their wedding, the breakfast, the bride's trousseau and a special license they may wish to obtain; the former Miss Bingley replied with a very short missive that she was glad her brother was finally engaged.

* * *

Mr. Darcy would soon find that his misgivings were unfounded; Elizabeth adapted easily to her position of mistress of Pemberley with grace and kindness, honouring a tradition set by his ancestors to which his parents had always adhered. And though he had suspected it, he could hardly supress the pleasant surprise to find his wife's little quirks pretty much matched his own. They both shared a love for the outdoors, completed with awe for its beauty and respect for its forces, and a zealous care for their family.

What he had not suspected, but was an equally delightful and welcome surprise, was the stunning finding that he had yet much to learn. That his body had not known pleasure as it did now, and that giving pleasure felt so fulfilling either. That his heart was capable of loving so many people with such intensity, or that it could break and bleed and still love so much. He simply had no idea.

While the present was always the moment to enjoy the most, Mr. Darcy would often remember with fondness their first times together. The first time he took her hand in his and showed her his home, their home, and the first time he held her in his arms and made love to her; the first summer they spent in Pemberley, when he saw how capable a swimmer she was (oh yes, a veritable mermaid); and the first time he held a baby in his arms, his baby, his son. The troubles and sorrows of living were not to dwell upon, but were carried with dignity and respect, for those who had passed away as well as for those surviving.

In all, Mr. Darcy had to admit, he had a wonderful life. And he could hardly believe, he could hardly remember, that once he'd been lonely, for he was lonely never again.


	40. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Jane Bingley started this Wednesday as she started every day. She got out of bed early, still very much in the old country manners, and let her maid help her dress and do her hair. The woman's expert hands went about a routine known by heart after so many years of service, while she gave her mistress a quick account of the household comings and goings.

Mrs. Bingley then slowly padded to the little adjacent room, where since the death of her husband five years ago, she always had breakfast with her daughter. The overcast winter skies offered a stark contrast to the cosiness inside, where a gas lamp brightly lit the colourful array of pillows thrown over the upholstered furniture.

Mrs. Lydia Hawthorne was already there, applied to reading the morning mail, and looked up to her mother with a warm smile. The fragrance from the coffee pot and freshly baked buns wafted through the room and welcomed the elderly lady, who took her accustomed chair and hoped her granddaughter, already out in society and fresh from a dinner last night, would come soon so they could share impressions about how people behaved these days.

There was a letter for Mrs. Bingley today, one sent from Pemberley, and she knew the moment she touched the envelope what news it contained. But she read it anyway, just to be sure.

* * *

In the train to Derbyshire she thought of how much things had changed since she was a young girl. These days one could go to almost any point of England in a day or less thanks to the railway and the trains, those magnificent and noisy monsters that carried progress everywhere. Things had changed, indeed, but that was the natural course of life.

She sighed. The errand that took her to Derbyshire was sad but not unexpected. Her sister Elizabeth had been very ill for the past few months, since her husband's decease to be exact, and it seemed evident to everyone that it was only a matter of time until she would join him. She was sad her most beloved sister was now departed in spirit, but that was also the natural course of life.

Mrs. Bingley had always been very close to her sister; their husbands had respected this proximity allowing for regular visits, and of course, they wrote each other very often. By virtue of such communication they had been aware of the ups and downs of the other's marriage, of some very private things that had taken place among people, Mrs. Bingley thought, of which she was now the only surviving one.

Elizabeth had married Fitzwilliam Darcy one day in October forty years before. They had lived most of the time in Derbyshire, in their large estate Pemberley, but they had kept the townhouse where they stayed when in London. They had had six children, four boys and two girls, all of them born healthy and seemingly without issues - her sister's small and lean physique hid a surprising fitness for birthgiving, she reflected with a smile. Unlike herself, who had lost two babies during birthgiving and suffered for long the aftermath in body and soul, Elizabeth had emerged from the bed with a smile and a baby in her arms.

Her sister had had a happy life and had always endeavoured to make everyone around her happy too. She had taken care of their mother and their sister Mary, who had widowed young and had many children in her care. She had sponsored Kitty's season and marriage to a young tradesman, and now lived in America. She had been a fair and generous mistress of the estate, and had reciprocated the unwavering adoration of her husband with love and laughter.

There had been dark times in that marriage too. The death of little Robert at age eight of fever had been very hard on Lizzy, while it was the death of Anna at age twelve after falling off a horse that had left her brother-in-law almost insane in his bereavement. But the close knit family had tightened their bonds and mourned together those who were gone, now held in loving memory.

It was all now in the past, she reflected as the train approached the stop in Lambton and her daughter's maid gathered their carpet bags. But those who loved and were loved will always live in the memory of those who were touched by their kindness, in the good deeds that were done, and the legacy of the times in which they lived.

With such thoughts she arranged her black veil over her bonnet and descended from the train carriage, with her arm in her daughter's, to meet her nephew who was in full mourning suit and waiting for them. They climbed into his carriage and mingled with the crowded and bustling streets of this modern town of Derbyshire, to pay their final respects to the most wonderful person she had ever known.

Jane Bingley dried her eyes with her black laced handkerchief. The natural course of life, she thought.


	41. Chapter 41

Hello everyone! I've corrected the story and it's done now. Thank you so much for the unbelievable interest and amazing comments you left while I published it. People, I owe you a lot.

Here I'll gather a few thoughts that originally appeared as Author Notes, but I rather leave the story clean and have them all here.

I hope they're good to spark a discussion or two, or maybe they'll help you go about writing your own story. Don't hesitate to contact me in PM or message if you need a hand with your writing!

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**Reviews:**

Everyone who stopped by and left a comment has my gratefulness, but some readers' input was particularly important: they were fia-blue, LotsOfLaundry, darcysfriend, Bonbonnett, jytte, TheChocoholicofAusten, Nuingarién, justlovefanfiction2901, GreenRibbon, Ally J., barnabus67, coldie-voldie, fishistix, Lady Forrest, makaem, janashe and allboyshouldhavelonghair.

Fellow writers: consider yourselves lucky to have these ladies (and/or gentlemen) as your readers.

I was left wondering about all the readers who chimed in at the first or the most critical chapters saying they were interested and wanted to read more, but didn't hear back from them again. Did they like the untangling of the story? Or did they find it disappointing?

A similar thing applies to when someone pointed out they didn't like and I replied defending my point of view, and I never heard back from them. Were they offended? Or did they believe it was an automated message?

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**Length of chapters:**

I was often criticized for the short length of my chapters. I often wonder if the people who write long and winded chapters, spelling out every feeling and thought by every character, get blasted too. Hmmm?

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**Things from my own previous knowledge and other details:**

Austen's stories are notoriously vague in terms of actual places or people. I think a lot of (very enjoyable) fanfics may not be out of character but are completely out of style when they stop to describe an actual historical character or event. I dated the original story as happening in the publishing year (1813) and had this story develop roughly in 1818-1819. Colonel Fitzwilliam fought in the Napoleonic Wars, and they're over, but I didn't mention them by name. I checked Vauxhall and Hyde Park existed at the time, but I'm not sure they would work as true settings. Matter of fact, I don't really care.

Georgiana's dollhouse is inspired on the (more modern) Queen Mary's dolls' house. Look for it, it's amazing.

I'm a huge fan of tea and pastries, and the Chelsea buns Georgiana sends Elizabeth and the tea case Darcy hands Charlotte are actual stuff quite in vogue at that time. I have the buns' recipe and plan on doing them next winter (I already master a similar recipe with challah dough), and I fancy myself a tea "connoisseuse".

I understand engagements in Regency England would be quite short, of around 4 to 6 weeks, and would be longer only when the groom didn't have enough money to support a family. From what I gathered, weddings themselves weren't much of a big deal and people would never travel out of town for one. People like Mr. Darcy could be married in a very short time, only days if they wished so. I made him want a very long engagement (of just 4 months!) to abide by our modern sensibility :-)

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**Characters: Georgiana, Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth, Mr. Collins, Charlotte, Mrs. Annesley, Mrs. Wainwright**

I love how **Georgiana** turned out in my story. The chapter where she bares her brother without any effort, in their conversation about funding Lydia's funeral, was incredibly fun to write.

I built her around three premises: that she would be well meaning as her brother, would be a lot like her aunt (but in a good way), and that after the Wickham's situation she had promised herself to be her own woman, to take the reins of her own private life instead of handing them over to someone else. I kept the shyness of the original, so that might be the only truthful thing about her.

Some of you have pointed Georgiana as childish and why she asked Darcy for permission to keep Lizzy's friendship. Remember that women were not allowed to take such decisions on their own, and would defer to their fathers, brothers or husbands. Georgiana has a husband, but she's in the company of the two men that were legally responsible for her so she might have been in the habit of doing so before. Besides, if Lady Catherine cut the Bennets off, she should be expected to do the same - after all they're family, aren't they?

Similarly, I built **Darcy** around two premises (none too original, really): that he was too lonely for his own good, and that he's always in the know, and has done something about it, before you even noticed something was amiss. More than his ability to love Elizabeth or his physical desires, I thought these two traits were better lines to work on with my story.

There's one thing in which my Mr. Darcy is completely out of character, but I thought it was necessary: he has a great deal of self deprecating humour. He tells Charlotte that "you excel at hosting unanounced guests for tea", in which he's actually referring to himself dropping by at his whim (and most likely, the tea box is a gift from himself). He later tells a very upset Elizabeth that she has "a long and illustrious career" turning down marriage proposals, a comment which backfires but would have had Lizzy laughing had she been less distressed. And finally, the one that had YOU all cracking, the butler comment. I believe money and good looks are fine, but a man must know how to make a woman laugh to be seriously considered. My views, not Austen's.

I love and hate Miss Austen in equal measures for giving us only peeks of Darcy. We just get two tiny glimpses of his mind, one lengthy letter and his actions, related by others more often than not. He shows himself in his true colours when he proposes and only a couple more times, and that's it (and what's more baffling, that's enough!) It's no surprise, I think, that fan fiction stories try to delve deeper and focus on him - the author gave us a marvellous character but he's absent most of the time!

I almost don't describe the physical features of my characters. I usually find that as mark of unnecessary writing, for a very simple reason: the assessment of beauty depends a lot on emotional states, and the reader's emotion toward a certain character doesn't necessarily match the characters' emotions among themselves. So I don't describe **Elizabeth**'s vitality and beauty, but I had four men's marriage intentions to her known to Darcy. Darcy's own, of course, then Charlotte tells him that Collins first proposed to Elizabeth, then Colonel Fitzwilliam tells of his own thoughts after they meet in the park, and finally Elizabeth herself tells him of the servant's proposal. That tells us that Elizabeth is very attractive, but I'm convinced that it matters little or nothing at all whether she has brilliant eyes, curly hair, freckled nose or whatever.

We see her mostly through Darcy's eyes, which I believe is one of the most amazing thing about this story: that true appreciation of beauty is born from the appreciation of character and love. Not genetics or common approval, but something quite personal. (Caroline Bingley and Jane Bennet seem to be much prettier than Elizabeth, but none really catches Darcy's eye, do they?)

**Mr. Collins** represents society and he does what everyone does. If he cuts off the Bennets, believe me, it's not because he's the only one; rather the opposite. Yes, he's disgusting, but he's the best gauger we really have of how large the gap between Darcy and Lizzy is now. And, if you haven't realised about it yet, I'm keeping everyone very class conscious here. Not just Darcy and Lizzy and Collins, but everyone.

**Charlotte** turns out to be another victim of Wickham's wrongdoing. I thought it would be very important that Darcy values her as a person (and so he thinks that going to Rosings isn't all punishment), and that he would feel it was somewhat his responsibility to help her reconnect with Elizabeth.

**Mrs. Annesley** somewhat takes over Mrs. Gardiner in this story. I love writing positive characters, and this one almost wrote herself.

**Mrs. Abigail Wainwright**, Elizabeth's employer, is Caroline Bingley in disguise, but turned out to be less cunning and more clumsy, but not really bad. She gets her comeuppance in her gauche management of the news of Elizabeth and Darcy's engagement.

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**Faces to my story:**

About halfway writing this story the farther I got the more I believe Winona Ryder and Daniel Day-Lewis would have made an impressive Lizzy / Darcy pair back in the 90's. I can't get Winona's face or voice out of my head, but Mr. Darcy is getting Matthew Macfadyen's voice more and more at every turn. I know many of you disagree, but of course, I'm alright with that.

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**Writing:**

I plot my stories backwards, and often that's how I write my chapters too. I first decide how it will end, and only then, I figure out how things are going to get there. Chapter 28 contains the idea that struck me when I read "The Reawakening", so the previous 27 were the build up to that point and the remaining ones are just the tying of loose ends.

Another thing about writing is that at least until now, I have never been able to break a pretty strict timeline of event. What happens first is told first, and what happens last is told last. I think it would be interesting to try to write stories chronologically built differently (I'm thinking of Time's arrow and Citizen Kane, two obvious examples - but fine to try, I believe).

I start out with a pretty clear idea of where I'm heading. However, reviews are very important to know what to stress in the next chapters, so I really find it's best to publish the story "as is" and then go back and correct with reviews in mind.

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**They've kissed and they're engaged, so what's next?**

My favourite Darcy's line belongs to the week the Bennet sisters spend in Netherfield, the argument about defects ("your defect is to hate everybody!" says lizzy, to which he replies laughing "and yours is to wilfully misunderstand them"), but Ch. 58 (the whole second proposal) is just amazing. I don't know why more romance writers don't take this page out of Austen's book and have their characters sort out their misunderstandings more articulatedly...

I like to give a glimpse of very much later in life. I know sometimes love dies and things are not rose coloured anymore, but sometimes people fall in love with each other time and again. It's not always the habit of waking up next to each other, but a feeling that keeps finding itself anew. I actually like better the Epilogue of my other long story, "North and South - Modern Take", but this one is not bad, I guess.


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